This whole work-home separation has been really a) wonderful and b) hard.
a) Wonderful
– More stairs! I walk up and down at least (and this a conservative estimate) six times the number of stairs I did when I worked at home. This has to be good for my butt and my general well being.
– Biking! I bike to work!! So fun. And Real Simple says that biking gives you more energy which is something I definitely need.
– No cat. No one is meowing and clawing and trying to eat some of my lunch.
– People! I talk to at least one extra person every day. It rocks.
– Way cool space. Warehouse 416 is a way inspiring place to spend my time.
– Friendship! (Yes, this is somehow different than people.) I have an office mate who is pretty freaking awesome and takes great photos that make the office look even better than it actually is:
(Photos by Sarabek Images)
b) Hard. And stressful too.
– Rubberbands are hard to locate. I always kept a well-stocked home office which, I now realize, was relied upon in non-home affairs.
– Where to file?? My desk is at work. I pay my office bills and my home bills at the same time (always have). Where do my home credit card bills go? Where do my work bills get filed? (off subject — why are they not all e-bills??)
– What to do? Get up earlier? The office is in a warehouse that has an art gallery on the ground floor, artist studios and one other business office. It’s pretty vacant and rather creepy late at night. Which is when I’m used to accomplishing most of the coding necessary to develop websites…what can I say? I’m a night person. It’s quiet — no one calls and I can put on a soap, and get in the coding flow. I’ve been tried staying late by talking myself out of American Horror Story memories and dissolving into the comfortable lull of Days of Our Live, and then boom! The timer from the weekly Toastmasters meeting goes off startling the wits out of me and bringing back American Horror Story memories. SO SCARY.
– No cat. When I drop some food on the floor, I have to clean it up. That’s a serious bummer.
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