Member-only story
The Worst Parts of Working From Home
Stewing in My Own Juice
It’s Monday morning, 8AM, and I have successfully pulled on my yoga pants, fed and walked the dogs, poured a great-tasting cup of coffee made just the way I like it, and taken the 60-second commute to my home office. What could go wrong with this day? It should be a blissful, productive work day, punctuated by a walk in the park at lunch with my dogs, me wearing no makeup all day, maybe even enjoying a yoga sesh in the comfort of my own family room, right?
Right.
Except, wrong.
I get blinking, bright-white spinning wheel of death when I try to log in to my computer because somehow, some way, it believes I have entered the wrong password. I double check my password. I carefully watch my fingers as I type. I am not misspelling. Caps lock is not on. I look in the little notebook where I have written it down, despite all of the advice not to write passwords down, because I was fearful that I might forget it, even though it is fairly simple — representative of a vacation goal, replacing a letter with a deceptively similar symbol (you know what I mean, you’ve done it, you know you have), and my high school graduation year fulfilling the numerical requirement. I didn’t make it terribly challenging. It’s just a work login password, after all. Sheesh.
