Working at home a recipe for (a lack of) productivity

SUBURBAN CHRONICLES

I’ve decided to work from home today and get a ton of stuff done. Here we go ...

7 a.m.: Wake up, turn over and check my phone. Does this mean my workday begins at 7 a.m. and therefore can end at 3 p.m.? Hahahahah, no. What this means is that when you work from home, you are never not at work.

7:01 a.m.: (Bathroom interlude.)

7:10 a.m.: Sit down at my computer with my first cup of coffee. OK, this is going to be an excellent, hugely productive day. Perhaps I should start with a list of all the things I will be accomplishing. Lists are great; they are the pinnacle of doing something without actually doing anything.

7:11 a.m.: Instead of making a list, I begin reading news headlines and checking Twitter. What is the point of being productive when the world is going to hell in a hand basket carried by a man with history’s most ridiculous haircut? The revolution will not be televised but our doom will play out one tweet at a time.

7:17 a.m.: Begin catching up on the emails that came between the last time I checked, late last night, and when I woke up 17 minutes ago. It is a disconcertingly large number.

7:20 a.m.: My youngest daughter needs help putting together her lunch, despite the fact that there’s approximately $4,232 worth of food in the fridge. “Yeah, but it’s all healthy stuff. Where are the granola bars?” They are not granola bars, they are chocolate bars labelled to make Mom and Dad feel better.

7:21 a.m.: My daughter adds three granola bars to her lunch.

7:30 a.m.: I respond to several emails and make a rough plan for the day, mapping out what absolutely has to be done, what I’d like to get done and what shouldn’t wait but probably can. Look at me, being productive and still in my pyjamas!

8:15 a.m.: My older daughter has missed the bus, which is to say she lallygagged too long knowing I would drive her. She dislikes the bus experience intensely. “I hate the stoner kids; they smell like weed first thing in the morning,” she says. Suddenly, I’m hungry.

8:25 a.m.: We stop for breakfast sandwiches. And yes, giving your teenager Iced Capps first thing in morning is good parenting.

9:30 a.m.: Back home, I should probably shower and get focused but ... nah. Business casual on this particular day shall be a Beastie Boys T-shirt, sweatpants and copious amounts of deodorant. Time to get to work.

9:32 a.m.: My lovely wife and children have left the kitchen in an unholy state, dishes and detritus from preparing breakfast and lunches on the fly. I can’t just let it sit there and they know this. 10 a.m.: Work for 15 minutes. 10:15 a.m.: I should really take the dog out and get some exercise. It will clear my head and I will be way more productive.

11a.m.: My mom stops by for coffee. I mean, she’s my mom, so I can’t really sit at my computer and type while she talks. Noon: Lunch! 1 p.m.: Work for 15 minutes. 1:16 p.m.: (Bathroom interlude.)

1:30 p.m.: A friend sends me an extremely long, detailed article on the strained relationship between North Korea and the United States and I read it all in one go. The bad news: there’s a very good chance we’re all going to die a fiery nuclear holocaust. The good news: no need to keep working.

2:30 p.m.: My wife sends a text: “Is there a dinner plan?” That’s code for “You’ve been at home all day, what are you feeding me and our children for supper?”

2:45 p.m.: A gentle breeze wafting in from a nearby window reminds me I’ve yet to shower today. I should probably do that. I’ll definitely be more productive after that.

3:15 p.m.: The kids begin to arrive home from school and begin yammering on about their day. 3:30 p.m.: Work for 15 minutes. 3:45 p.m.: I decide to pack it in, given that I’ve been at it non-stop since 7 a.m. I should probably go into the office tomorrow but I never get anything done there ...