The words felt stilted, broken, as if I was recovering from some kind of cranial disaster that Lifetime Movies seem to make a killing on. When the sentence was done, the lighting switched, the television came on low, and the bedroom lit up just enough on this rainy afternoon that I could change into my gym clothes without loss of valuable time.
I didn't want to go to the gym too late. The youth would arrive and hog the machines and make me horribly self-conscious.
As I dressed, I spoke to the Google Mini in my bedroom, but, this time, with a pace that was a bit more languid, I bit more natural.
"Okay, Google, message husOtter, that I'm on the way to the gym and the dogs have been fed."
"Sending message."
"Hey Google, play some dance music."
I need to move my feet more, being all tired from work.
But I was not truly tired. I was able to finish all those afternoon productivity chores that really do make your day go more smoothly. I made that coffee, while listening to NPR's most recent news. Then I had the television come on when I emptied the dishwasher, so I could hear the calming tones of Judge Judy-face it, you don't have to watch the show, it's not like there's action going on-and then able to prep the canines' various busywork/snacks before I even thought to mention I was home.
I am a proud owner of a smart home. I elected to treat myself last year, not sure of the ramifications of the purchase or how it would effect me. I was able to listen to music, set reminders, but not much else until I actually sat down and ordered up a few YouTube videos. I thought some of the actions were fun easy to do, and, if I didn't use them? Heck, no worries, life was already underway.
My husOtter, though I asked for his opinion, didn't seem to mind at first. And when the youngest corgi decided to lunch on the cable to the floor lamp, I rewired it and then added a wifi plug.
And I was hooked.
A Smart Home was born. Completely. The television. Radios. Alarms. Video cameras to watch the corgis.
Everything.
It's been a year, and the integration is definitely here.
But I'm noticing it more and more lately. There's something going on. I'm noticing that there's a generation gap with my colleagues at work and persons in my neighborhood. One day, during a particular boast, I heard one person say, "you've gotten so lazy, haven't you?"
It got me thinking.
In life.
And on this blog.
I haven't gotten lazy. I'd gotten productive.
I noticed it immediately.
I had gone in the other direction. Now? When I sit to write? A series of activities are now stopped. Turning off the light, turning off the tv, turning on another light....now, with one mention, "I'm going on the computer," this causes a series of events to happen and I'm able to focus on what I was going to go on the computer for.
This confidence has released my energy. Now? Coming home? Lighting is automatic, and the decisions come more readily. Like that 'message,' I can send a text immediately, not having to change what I was doing.
And the speech pattern.
It was observed several times that, unlike most hearing folk, my signs move faster when I use my voice at the same time.
And I talk fast.
To the point that, if you have ADHD, you ain't following.
But that was then. In order for this blasted contraption to follow through, I have to be conscious of the message I'm communicating to it. That means, slowing down and saying what I mean.
Something I probably should be doing for the humans in my life. My corgis, strangely, seem to understand me better.
But as I clear up my diction, I noticed that means I have to suppress those impulsive ideas that plague my rambunctious noggin. That means stop thinking about the crap at work and focus on what you want to happen...RIGHT NOW.
That kind of thinking is very Zen, in my humble opinion. Too often, we have to train our selves to meditate. To just sit and think about the moment. And we lose sight of that. We drive home never noticing the drive home. It is difficult. But with the Google home in place, I'm able to take my time and think about what I want.
And it goes beyond that, just barking commands and trying to get Google to find out the answer of a Jeopardy question before the contestants do. I mean, like, what's the weather going to be this weekend. Like, what time is it in Sacramento (couldn't remember the time zone). The thought arrives, I'm able to act on it, and then it disappears. When I announce I'm going home from a writing group and it tells me that there's an accident on the way. Details and details.
Home has become more relaxing for me.
And, weirdly, productive.
Like I've found some kind of micro-chipped Zen or something.
