Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCLXVII

Sometimes I wish I had an office to go to five days a week. You know, like what some people call a "real job." Be at work at eight. Go home at five. But then I'm sure many of you who already have what I'm wishing for think I'm the one who has it made. After all, the distance from my bedroom door to my office door is only about six feet. I could work in my pajamas if I wanted to. (Of course, if I'm gonna do that, I have to first get me some pajamas.) My office, however, is simply the place where I do my paperwork...if I want to make money, I have to get in my car and go see my clients, and those clients are scattered all over a three state area. What really bugs me is when I look at my watch and realize that it's four o'clock on a Friday afternoon and I still have a five hour drive ahead of me before I get home. I try not to let that happen too often.

This may sound a little strange, but the good thing about having somewhere to go for work is being able to go home at the end of the day. What makes it sound so strange is the person, who like me, has converted what used to be a spare bedroom into an office, is already home. He or she doesn't have to make a trip to get there. Here's the trouble: If your work is at home, then you're always at work...at least until you leave home. I guess there are advantages and disadvantages either way. When my kids were young and still living at home, I used to complain that the big advantage and the big disadvantage were one and the same. The disadvantage was the fact that the kids were constantly demanding my attention, making it hard to get my work done. The advantage was the fact that my kids were constantly demanding my attention, and I was there to give it to them. Naturally, I don't regret a single minute I spent with either one of them; it would be nice to be able to bring some of those days back.

Now, to get a little closer to the point I'm trying to make, let's talk about what home really is...at least what it should be. It's supposed to be a place of refuge, a place where a person can relax and unwind, and "recharge his batteries." If a person has an office at home where he spends most of his days, then he needs to have a set time that he walks out, closes his office door, and doesn't go back in until the next morning at his assigned time to get back to work. I have some co-workers who also have their offices at home, and I'm constantly getting calls and emails from them late at night--even late night calls on Saturdays and Sundays. (I don't answer those calls, incidentally.) If I get a business email on a Sunday morning, which is quite common, I've come to the conclusion that it can wait until Monday...just like what would happen if my office was somewhere else. Sometimes I wonder if all the modern technology we're so addicted to is really good for us. My iPhone is rarely out of my sight. I can hear it vibrating late at night when emails come in, and we've really reached the point in life where we're basically on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

How many songs can you think of that have been written about home? "I Wanna Go Home." "Six Days on the Road and I'm Gonna Make it Home Tonight." And one of the saddest ones I can think of has a line that says, "It's too hot to fish, it's too hot for golf, and it's too cold at home." If that's the situation, then home is no longer that place of refuge that it's supposed to be, and something needs to be done pronto to fix that situation. A person has to have a place of peace and refuge, and if it can't be found at home, he will go somewhere else...anywhere else...to try to find it.

I've made some rules about what hours I will or will not be found working in my office. The trouble is, with an office that's just a few steps from any other room in my house, it's much too easy to break those rules. As a matter of fact, at the time I'm writing this, it's getting to be late at night, my wife is in the family room reading, and I'm sitting here in my office at my computer. Yes, we're in the same building, but considering the amount of time we're spending together, it's not that much different than if I would be in an office across town. It's time for me to practice what I'm preaching, so I'm about to turn out the light in this office, close the door, and "go home." It's only a few steps away. I need to at least get in there in time to tell my wife that I love her before she falls asleep in the recliner.

Preston