Monday in invariably my day to work from home. Most other days I do design work for other companies in their studios. When I'm at home, I get a lot more done in fewer hours. It’s easy to see why...
- To begin with, I don't have to commute to get to work. Commuting involves either the tube or the bus and bizarrely, no matter where I’m going in central London, it takes an hour. So not commuting saves me 2 hours a day.
- I don’t get distracted by work colleagues. Distractions include 1. Discussing music, films, TV, gossip or other work mates to such a passionate degree that it’s impossible to multi-task and actually do work at the same time, 2. Showing or being shown something on the computer (usually on YouTube) which causes so much hilarity you have to take a couple of minutes off to catch your breath, 3. Loo breaks (not that I don't go to the loo at home but usually it’s not the other side of a vast studio, nor are there other girls in there that I need to natter with), 4. Making tea or coffee (again, I do make tea and coffee at home but there aren't other people to distract me in my kitchen and I don’t have to make 4 cups of tea in one go, 5. Going for lunch, 6. Meetings. At work, these involve many people and are very time consuming. At home, meetings last a few minutes and are done over the phone. No distractions, therefore, saves me ooh... a few hours a day?
- I don’t have to look presentable at home. It takes me an hour to get ready when I'm going to work; shower, clothes, hair, make-up. At home, I might still be in my pyjamas at lunchtime.
So all in all, I save myself about 5 hours by working from home. Brilliant! So, really (and I sometimes do justify this to myself when a particular yoga class catches my eye) I only have to work 4-5 hours and I'm already into overtime! Ha. But the thing I have begun to notice is how little I care about what I look like on Mondays. I'm at home, I'm working, no one will see me. My pyjamas are sooo comfortable and comfort is good when you’re working hard, right? When I do venture out, to get supplies or reference, or to do a spot of shopping (after finishing my days work you understand), then I just grab whatever is to hand.
This past Monday I had finished all my work and decided to go to the supermarket. It's further than my local one and so I decided to drive. It was particularly cold outside and so I just began layering on clothes. Over my pyjamas (the shame!). So my pyjamas were the bottom layer, then I put my bra over my pyjama top (I know!), then jeans over the bottoms (nice lumpy finish), t-shirt and hoodie on the top, then Ugg boots, a parka and a wooly hat, mittens and scarf as the finishing layer. No make-up and hair scraped into a scrunchy (yes, they do still exist) on top of my head. I didn't look in the mirror (what’s the point?) and went on my merry way.
Once I got to the Supermarket and found a trolley, I happily wandered the aisles. I noticed a few people giving me odd looks and one woman steered her child in a large circle around me. Crikey, I thought, can't a girl go out without her hair and bloody make-up done just for once and not worry? People are sooooooooo shallow, I thought!!! I finished my shopping and headed out to the car park. As I passed the long glass front of the supermarket I looked at my reflection. Then I looked again (I mentioned the not recognising myself in a previous email but this was something else). I then saw a bag lady pushing my trolley. I actually burst out laughing when I saw the state of myself. No wonder people were staring. I had pulled my hat so far forward and readjusted it so many times that my ‘scrunch-ied’ ponytail was at the front of my head, sticking out like some hairy unicorn. I had so many layers, creating so many odd bulges that I looked like a giant belted marshmallow. And to finish off this sultry look I noticed I had a massive bulge in my thigh. I poked it with my mitten and it relented. Weird. I took off my mitten and wiggled my hand into my jeans and tugged at the bulge. I probably should have done this in the privacy of my car but I wasn't thinking and was laughing so hard that people would assume I was a nutter anyway. I finally yanked hard and out came a pair of knickers and a sock, like some twisted magic show. I was crying with laughter at myself so much that I only just managed to get to the car!!!! I keep giggling about it, three days later, which also makes me look a bit potty.
So a word of warning to those that work from home... layer away but always look in the mirror before you leave the building!