Friday, January 21, 2011

They Joys of Working at Home

  I don’t know how many of you have the immense pleasure of being able to write for a living from the comfort of your own home, but it has many wonderful benefits. Such as being able to work in your pajamas, raid your own pantry, and eschew the bother of make-up.
   But there are cons, as well. At least in my house. For starters, there are two children, six animals, and my lovely, wonderful partner that also reside in the domicile. This comes with a myriad of cons, little reader. I assure you.
  The children absolutely insist that they be fed first thing in the morning, coddled, dressed, and then taxied to a higher learning establishment. Demanding things, children. I think this is a missed marketing opportunity just waiting to be snatched up. Those elusive and confounding creatures called “morning people” could make a killing if they were to make a career out of handling other people’s early, tiny-tyrant, pre-school duties. Just saying. Of course, I couldn’t pay anyone to do this, because as we mentioned before – I am a writer who works from home. Which translates to “broke”. But if anyone is looking for a volunteer opportunity, hit me up.
  Then there are the animals. For those of you who have cats, you will completely understand what I’m about to say. Cats have no real interest in you whatsoever unless you are doing something else that does not involve them. And they get really interested if you look like you might be minutely comfortable doing it. So once I get myself settled into my nice, overstuffed couch, coffee on the stand next to me, laptop up and raring to go, the heretofore unseen feline creatures (of which there are four – count them, four – in my house) suddenly appear, seeming to be unable to live one second longer without my complete attention. It should be noted that should I choose to try and ignore them, they will plant themselves squarely on my keyboard until I remedy my apparently unforgivable actions.
  Lastly, but definitely not least(ly?), my wonderful partner has a work schedule that doesn’t start until hours after I am up and going after having deposited the small Nazis at school. She also has breathing issues (as opposed to dealing with me issues) that require her to sleep on the couch many nights so she can prop herself up properly. Therefore when I am ready to dig into my writing, there is generally a Great Grumpy Beast sleeping in my “office”.
  There are several reasons this works against me. For one, as you might have guessed from her title, she is not a morning person. No – that’s an understatement. She has temporary Tourette’s. Never fear, little reader. It only affects her in the mornings and when she plays Call of Duty. Otherwise, she just has your normal, everyday potty mouth. Secondly, she also has the ability to sleep through a nuclear holocaust. Or as it turns out most mornings, her alarm. In addition, she has a rather unusual sense of humor, so while I am trying to work on rewrites for my novel, I am usually assaulted by a random quote from Beavis & Butthead, Akmed the Dead Terrorist, or her current choice – the theme from Halloween. After a good 5 or 10 minutes of praying that she will hear it, I will generally try to get her attention to turn the damn thing off, and the conversation goes a little like this:

            Me: Hey
            Her: snore
            Me: Hey
            Her: snore
            Me: Hey!
            Her: #%@&!
            Me: Yeah, good morning to you too
            Her: $*%(^!
            Me: Your alarm…?
            Her: snore
            Me: Your alarm!!!
            Her: I  @*%(#  hear it!
            Me: I’m sure. Can you turn it off now?
            Her: #$)%)@
            Me: Thanks.

  Now, please understand, little reader – this is the kindest, most considerate woman I know (besides myself, of course). So please don’t judge her based on her illness. Many times I have told her of the loving conversations we’ve had when she’s half asleep and she is deeply ashamed. Of course, it could all be an act. Women are crazy, after all.
  Eventually, she is successfully roused and turns human again, and heads off to work. This is the best time of the day for me, because the house is empty, the cats are still sleeping, the dogs have been let out, and I can write to my heart’s content. At least until one of the furry children need attention and/or food and/or to be let outside. When are they going to make dogs with thumbs?
  Anyway, I wish you all a productive and interruption-free day. You probably won’t get it, but I wish it for you in any case. Now if you’ll excuse me, Halloween is calling.

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