It’s not that I don’t like to work. The actual process of working is fine. It’s everything around it. The getting up at a set time – usually way earlier than I would like to be waking. The having to immediately hop in the shower and make myself look respectable with the very limited clothing choices I have. And even if I had a wardrobe to make the biggest fashionista jealous, I would still dread the getting ready.
It’s the rushed breakfast and purposeful coffee. The kind of coffee you have to drink because you need to wake up and you need a source of comfort while you check emails and say all of those good mornings.
Oh, the good mornings. Sometimes I just wish I could ignore them and just get right to work.
Because, I said, it’s not the working.
Then there’s the sitting and the being stuck. The few times I have worked from home, it’s so nice to be able to get up and dance around the living room during your favorite song. Can’t really do that in the office where I have one headphone in one ear set to super quiet so that I can hear if anyone is speaking to me.
I like to sing and move while I work. But instead I’m sitting. And stuck sitting.
I wonder, though, if I worked from home, if I would be productive. The few times I’ve done it, I got a lot done, but I was so nervous that people would assume I was slacking off that I may have overcompensated.
Most likely I will never know.