Office vs. Home

I'm boooooored.

It's ironic that when people hear the words "work from home," they automatically think stuff like: part-time, half days, stress-free, lightweight, got it made -- at least, this is what flits about in my own husband's head. I know this will come out as defensive-sounding, but while my schedule may be irregular, I work five days a week (sometimes even seven) and usually 10 to 12 hours a day. In addition, when one's "office" is mere steps from bed, and the majority of interactions are carried out through sterile emails, things like being sick and/or overloaded with work do not apply. Trying to communicate such possibilities to people at the "real office" will sound laughably lame, I assure you. Take my own husband: not even a fever will deter him from strapping on his suit and charging out into a raging blizzard to get to work.

Yet here I am, rising each morning, melting into the flow of regular commuters, as good as chained to a desk by the time clock, being far better compensated for my troubles than I ever am as a freelance editor, and also thumb-twiddlingly, guilt-strickenly, madly devoid of any work to do -- as you may have deduced from the abnormal amount of blogging I've been doing lately. Sure, I get the odd document to edit, which takes all of five minutes to painstakingly pore over (I feel obligated to overcompensate). Then I check my email about 47,000 times, read a little literature online, do some volunteer editing work not related to my present job, drink lots of free green tea from the vending machine, pee a lot. Yup...