For the past three years, I’ve been working from home fulltime. It’s an interesting experiment — and it came with a steep learning curve. There were days I spent meandering around my apartment, a charming, sunshine-filled duplex that feels like a little house in the middle of Jersey City, watching endless episodes of House Hunters and doing nary a lick of work.
There are still days that are like that — more frequent than I’d care to admit. But over time, I got comfortable with the idea of actually working at home, and our whole apartment became my office — from the sofa (with the TV as background noise) to the little table in the kitchen to my big, cozy bed, where I’d snuggle up with my cup of chai and my Mac and pound out some pages. Except of course, when the lure of its comfy pillows lulled me right off to sleep.
But things are very different now. That’s because I’ve got this tiny little person who’s invaded every inch of my space (and my husband’s). Since she arrived last February, she’s owned this place, pulling pots and pans out of cabinets and books off of shelves as she explores her domain. Toys scatter underfoot and even under-bum (careful when you sit down on what used to be my spotless mocha suede sofa). And even the big old bed is Kavya’s space, first and foremost.
Ironically, now it’s where I now get most of my work done. For the last few months, I’ve found myself working very specifically to deadline, usually waking up before sunrise — at four a.m., frequently — to get to work, because I haven’t had time otherwise. Kavi’s generally still snuggled up next to me then, but she’s snoozing for another three or four hours. She tends to like to cuddle right up against my hip, keeping me company as I use that concentrated quiet time to really get some work done. Surprisingly, I’ve been pretty prolific in those short bursts of time. Now, if I could just make more of them, I’d actually finish the sucker.
Photo by Navdeep Singh Dhillon