The perils of working from home

It occurred to me, moments after posting my previous entry, that the reason I’ve been feeling fairly upbeat one moment and grumpy and lethargic the next, is because I haven’t left the house for about a week.

I’ve had a job that gives me the “priviledge” of working from home for over a year now and there are still things I haven’t adjusted to. Clearly, leaving the house from time to time is one of them. In all honesty I still find it hard to grasp; I find myself frustrated and restless, sometimes miserable and snappy, just because I haven’t walked out the front door at some point in the last few days.

I had three days off in a row last week and I did absolutely nothing. The day after, feeling frustrated, I headed to the shop to get some milk and felt almost giddy and excitable by the time I’d gotten back. Thankfully, I started work about an hour after and the grumpiness quickly returned. Christ, imagine if I’d been nice to someone. Perish the thought.

Let this be a warning to anyone who desperately wishes they could work from home: it’s not all waking up at 12pm (that makes me instantly angry) and working in your underwear (those early conference calls were very awkward), it can be…well, fucking horrible at times. I know how lucky I am to have my job, so I’m not moaning about it, but remember the next time your colleague makes you laugh or you have a half-interesting conversation, that wouldn’t have happened if you were sat on your sofa in your underwear with your toothbrush in your mouth. And no, the postman doesn’t ever want to come in for a coffee.

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