Three problems with working home alone all day, every day:
1. It's so. Freakin. Quiet. I thought I really craved quiet, but this is going overboard. I can sit in my den and name off every appliance that's running in the house, just by the sound of their individual little motors.
2. I am beginning to take an unnatural interest in the arrival of the mail.
3. I can almost understand the language of the dogs now. Mostly they'll give me some variation of 'Don't bother me, Pinky, I'm napping', or 'Yo, Can Opener, reach me down a Milk Bone', but there are nuances.
It's tempting to go on the Internet and interact with imaginary people all day. So I've shut off my big computer and do all my work from the laptop (with the wireless card removed). Once in a while I trek to BB's computer to visit y'all. Go ahead and get disgusted with me over my lack of willpower. Go ahead! BB rolls his eyes at me every day. What can I say - I'm an addict; the only thing that works is Tough Love.
I sent a draft of the lit review to my professor last Friday. He shot back his remarks with preternatural speed - did he even read it? - so now I must incorporate the remarks into an incredible final chapter. Meanwhile, I am preparing to write the Methodology section while at the same time knocking out a nuisance paper for Public Management.
Excuse me; the dogs tell me they want me to go on You Tube now.
You may be seriously in need of human contact.
Posted by: yomama | March 21, 2007 at 03:37 PM