When it comes to working from home, I have a couple rules. They have nothing to do with goals or time management. In fact, they’re so simple, they sound kind of silly.
Rule# 1: Get up at a decent hour every day. Preferably, the same decent hour every day. Coincidently, following this rule is dependent on me going to bed at a reasonable hour each night as well.
Rule # 2: Put some pants on.
As you might have guessed, lately I have not been following either rule with any great success. Something about our internet outage, which continues to drag on -- I’m currently using an archaic dial-up connection . . . Internet forever! -- leaves me feeling out of touch and slightly picked on. With the barrier of not having ready access to the internet making it difficult to communicate and research, I see no real need to spring out of bed each morning: might as well let the day unfold organically until we’re back at full capacity.
And then there’s the other fact: it is so very dark in the mornings. Andy leaves the house before 7 each morning and has taken to building a fire before he goes. As the fire crackles in the stove and the little house shakes off its nightly chill, it’s hard not burrow under the covers and fall into a final, especially cozy, slumber before starting the day. Perhaps when we shed daylight savings time this weekend, I’ll be able to pull myself out of bed at a decent hour (aka, anytime before 8), but during our current run of dark mornings and grey days, sleeping in seems inevitable.
Each morning, after I’ve broken rule #1, I proceed to break rule #2. While rule #1 exists because I firmly believe a good start to the day will buoy you through anything else the day throws at you, rule #2 exists because I’m also a firm believer that what you wear each day influences your reactions to the world around you. Regardless of what I accomplish while wearing a bathrobe, the fact that I was wearing a bathrobe while I did it kind of makes me feel like an under-employed ninny. I try to sit down in front of the computer every day, fully clothed in something I’d go out in public in. But lately I’ve taken to wearing my roomiest jeans and an old bleach-stained sweatshirt or ancient Polarfleece pullover. Not exactly the outfit of champions.
There are a couple reasons for my slovenly wear as of late. Since our firewood delivery last month, I spend about an hour every afternoon stacking wood, a filthy chore. I see no reason to get dressed twice in one day (let’s just be happy I managed to pull it off once, okay?) so I’ve gravitated towards my work grubs. That also might have a little something to do with the fact I can only seem to find work grubs in my wardrobe.
I’ve never been someone with an overabundance of clothes. I wear things until they’re shot. In college, my roommates used to throw my hole-y socks away because they knew I’d keep wearing the socks until they literally disintegrated. Because I’ve stayed the same size since hitting puberty (albeit, with a slight thickening in the thighs and upper arms in recent years) much of my clothing is a good decade old.
Right now all of my mildly fashionable jeans are all sporting a rip at the tippy-top of the right back pocket. (Maybe go up a size next time, eh?)
My eight-year-old belt finally frayed into uselessness a couple days back. All my socks have holes in the heels. When most people say they have nothing to wear, they’re usually being dramatic.
When I say I have nothing to wear, it’s because it’s the truth.
Who knew two little rules could be so tricky to keep? However, I’m determined to get back on track. After all, a well-rested slob is only good company for so long.
Do you have any tricks for getting going each morning? Any rules you live by?