I’m about to start my third day of working at home. So far, all the people I’ve encountered have been wonderful. Lots of Skype meetings!
While I still don’t have my desk, I’ve done some things to make the space feel more like me–and more like an office. (Butters has already attempted to eat the spider plant several times.)
I also hung up my pin-up girls…over my monitor, so they don’t show up during video calls, but I can see them whenever I look up.
On my desk, I’ve got a cool Rosie the Riveter mouse pad, plenty of coffee, and of course, the ubiquitous picture of my grandmother and her 1940 Dodge.
I’ve promised myself that I will leave the house every day for at least my first three months of working at home in order to fight my natural inclination to avoid people and become a hermit. Monday I went to yoga, yesterday I tackled the grocery store, and tonight I plan to hit up a yoga class again. Friday I’ll have lunch with a friend. Thursday night, Tim Waltner will choose our adventure and I’ll go wherever he takes me.
When people learn that I work from home, they typically respond with a statement like, “Oh, that’s great – you can spend all day in your pajamas!” But I can’t. Really, Skype meetings aside, that’s just not who I am. Call it part of my vintage proclivities, but I can’t bring myself to work if I’m not dressed, with hair done and make-up in place. When I taught college classes, I refused to grade papers at home if I wasn’t dressed. Somehow it just felt unprofessional to me. I don’t care if other people choose to work in sweatpants–if that suits them, then I won’t judge.
Pretty confident that situation won’t change six months down the road, but stay tuned.