As most of you know, I've been working from home for the past two years. While I do occasionally miss the companionship and intrigue of office life, I find that working at home suits me, partly because I like setting my own schedule -
(7:00 a.m.: Work.
7:05 a.m.: Watch Dick in a Box video three times.
7:15 a.m.: Watch Box in a Box video twice.
7:23 a.m.: Try to decide which one is funnier. Then try to decide if I am truly being objective about which one is funnier or if I'm being swayed by the Box in a Box singer's bodacious ta-tas. Hmm. Better watch them both again.
Noon: Lunch.)
- but mainly because I don't have to wear pants and stuff.
The thing is that I've made working from home look REAL good to my girlfriend (or "fiancée" now, I guess - although, since we're getting gay married, isn't there some kind of "gay engaged" term we can use? Preferably something with the word "beaver" in it? "Beaverancée"?). As of Monday, my beaverancée Katr will also be working primarily from home! Both of us! At home! Together!
Obviously, this will be an adjustment for both of us. We'll have to share the phone and the broadband connection (Kate: Geez, this document is taking forever to download. What are YOU doing? Me (muting Dick in a Box video): Uh . . . nothing. Want some tea?). We'll have to be strategic about when we do laundry, because the washer sounds like a jet taking off. Until the effing Brick delivers the dining room table that's now A MONTH LATE, we'll be sharing a desk.
Also, I will have to try not to:
- Assume that just because Katr's finally home with me doesn't mean that her sole purpose is to spend all day, every day, laughing at my jokes, helping me with what I'M working on, fixing my technology problems and feeling me up;
- Drop everything to spend the day watching the Crossing Jordan/ CSI/Without a Trace/Law & Order (but never "Law & Order SVU", or, as I call it, "The Weekly Rape")/Any other crime drama my beaverancée hates marathon and knitting (Project Runway marathons are okay);
- Walk around with no pants on near the new webcam when Katr's on a video conference with clients;
- Sing at the top of my lungs and use stuffed animals to act out "Would You Light My Candle" from Rent;
- Blow the grocery money on blow and then say Nick Nolte mugged me and stole it (Sorry, Nick).
As Friday is my last day of "home alone" time, I'm also trying to figure out what to do tomorrow. It's not like I wait for Katr to leave every morning so that I can cover the couch in plastic, coat it in olive oil and slide around while watching The Matrix with the Trinity parts in slow mo. ("Why does it smell like Italian food in here? What's this on the remote?") But, you know - I feel like I need to have some kind of last hurrah. But what? A Homicide: Life on the Street marathon? An all-day daquiri bender with Nick Nolte? A knitting, pantsless, pie-eating trifecta? Or should I just cover the couch in plastic, coat it in Devonshire cream and watch Battlestar Galactica with the Katee Sackhoff parts in slow mo?
History will decide. Or perhaps Syd will.
