I quit my day job almost a year ago. Now I work out of my livingroom. I love it... a dream come true, blah blah blah. Anyway, how can I make the most of this situation? Said myself to myself. Bingo! Wear a tshirt, shorts, and lounge around in your socks or bare feet.
At first I was in heaven. After years of working fully clothed, like a civilized person, I discovered what it was like to dress like a bum. But slowly, I was feeling a sense of general lack of motivation set in.
On a fluke, I left my shoes on after running an errand, and got back to work. What do you know? I feel ALIVE again. It's like my shoes are there, saying, "Hey Kev, it's [us](http://i165.photobucket.com/albums/u44/UnWorldyGuy/Converse.jpg) ... your pals! We're only here to help. We're like a gentle hug on your feet that's constantly saying, 'Go ahead, get comfy... but not too comfy.'"
They know I've love them, and I know they love me. That's why they want to help.
Thanks shoes!
You know, one of the tenets of the Flylady cleaning system (which is aimed mostly a stay at home moms and includes a lot of daily reminders) is to get up and put on your shoes. That signals that the dya has begun and that you shouldn’t just lounge around all day. If I’m trying to get something done on the weekend, if I wear tennies, I’m much less likely to just kick off my flipflops and nap on the couch.
May I also add, that it provides way more traction for walking around on the hardwood and tile floors. Man, even foods are beginning to taste better! Okay, well maybe not.
I agree. Dressing the part and training people to not interrupt you when you’re working is a big help. (“Yes, that’s interesting. I love you, grandma, but I can’t talk right now. No, I do not need to go clean the house! I’m working. Yes, at home. Yes, my job. Yes, making websites. No, it is not faster because it’s on the computer. Goodbye.”) I’m also self-employed, and don’t have an office yet (moving in a year to a bigger place–counting the days) so I work in my dining room, or at a drafting table in my bedroom. I also got this work after being unemployed for almost a year. It was rough starting out.
I also find that if I can take my work out, and actually get out of the house, I feel much more like a real person and less like a…well, on bad days, a houseplant. I like home. It’s a great place, but after about three days at home I’m climbing the walls. I just bought a laptop for work, and the ability to get out of the house and still work is amazing, as long as I find a spot and settle in. I’ve become a regular at the library and a nearby coffee shop.
That’s all well and good, but what if you take your work to someone’s house, hmm? Say you’re housesitting for your brothers’ roommates’ cousins’ barber, you take a suitable Bunch of Work with you, do you take your shoes off? You’re working out of a home, not yours but still someone’s home, so what do you do?
The state of your mortal soul may or may not depend on this answer. YMMV. Do not taunt Happy Fun Ball. Void where prohibited.
Yeh, It’s almost like I got to get back to my work-a-day routine. I don’t mind being in the house for long stretches, several days even, but there was a certain mindset, that my home is where I could come back to after a day’s work and chill.
Maybe now I can have the best of both worlds (not that there was a lot of good working at a corporation). My organic nature is at odds with my rigid corporate conditioning. At first I wanted to be all organic and loosy-goosy, now I realize I need to mix in just a little more structure, but I can do it my way. Instead of having to wear clunky black leather shoes, I can now wear more comfy chucks.
Anyway… I think I’m starting to figure out this self-employed thing now.
I wish I could take my work outdoors or even a coffee house, but I rely on a whole suite of hardware and processing power that a lappy wouldn’t be able to cover. But after converting my living room into a homy office, with nice open windows in the spring, it a 1000% better than my old beige cube.
No no no! You got it all wrong… I’m working with my shoes on! That was my big revelation. But yeh, before… especially at your pad, off come the shoes. And my socks may or may not have holes in them.
Nah, at my pad you can leave your hat on, your shoes on, wear a cowboy boot for a hat, whatever rocks your boat. Hell, for chucks you might get an extra Guinness even!
I was just trying to finagle you into another shoes in the house crapfest to watch you squirm.
Oh, I see what you were getting at… common courtesy to take off the shoes at another’s house. Yeh, screw em… If I’m coming over to work, I’m tromping through their house, devil-may-care.
And if you’re handing out extra Guinnessii (plural for Guinness?), then I’m gonna wear chucks on my hands, too, next time I’m over there.
