Who Moved My Slippers?

I work from home, which means a lot of things. First, I don't do work in my underwear. Some people have actually told me that they would work in their pajamas, which would make for a very cold day for me. My office is in the basement, which means cold temps. I never work without my big blue down vest, otherwise I get so cold that it's distracting. Well, I guess I never go anywhere without my big blue down vest. I've been harassed in public about wearing my down vest on a moderately warm day. I say a) I can where whatever the f I want, that's none of your monkey business, but 2) who cares! It's so comfortable! The arm holes and length and neck fit me perfectly. Why would I even want to take it off? I should wash it though. I think I got chicken blood on it a few weeks ago.

I'm not sure that that was even a tangent, as the blue down vest is a critical element to my work productivity and overall happiness.

But back to work at home. Again, no work in underwear, although I would really like to meet the person who would spend their entire work life in their underwear. Seriously, I'd prefer to be dressed. Slippers are the limit of my wardrobe adventures here in the dungeon. Working at home means that I am the cook, housecleaner, chicken tender (not the fried kind), trash taker outer, laundry doer, and many other things. Steve does a lot of this too, so I'm not the only person in the household who does chores, but by default, I do these tasks. Which is fine - I'd rather stay at home and be able to do that, then work in Denver and spend 1.5 hours commuting and have to take care of chores after a long day at work. Instead of hanging out by the water cooler, I spend five minutes putting underwear in ther dryer. It's a matter of priorities.

The only thing I miss is human interaction. I am lucky to have worked with most my colleagues in person before, so I feel like I am an extension of a real office, but it would be nice to have some friends around once in a while, if anything to bitch about the Raiders or talk about where we're going to get lunch. That brings up another point thought - a good one - I get 24/7 access to a working oven. I can warm up lunches like it's my job - unfortunately, it's not - and I even get a steady stream of refrigerated items at my fingertips, to accommodate my latest cravings. Other people say that they would not be able to work, because they would always think about food. I always think about food, but I've stopped worrying about it. I know myself well enough to know that if I want to eat something, I will eat it, so I might as well get it over with. No use in arguing with myself about it.

All in all, I am blessed to work from home, but talking to chickens for interaction might appear odd to some.