From the Desk of Kafka

JunkThief Gregg woke up one morning to discover that he had turned into an enormous cockroach....

Okay, it may not be as bad as that, but after nearly a decade of working from home while being part of a 147 member global team still makes me feel at times like a variation on Gregor Mendel Samsa or some other Kafka office functionary in an eternal Interzone that is not quite real yet not quite fictional. Conference calls are always the worst, and I am often amazed when people praise me for facilitation skills that I think that I absolutely lack. I've learned to trust pauses and silences, especially when after prodding, people respond "We're writing."

Although I have a dedicated office space in my house, I selfishly (selflessly? self-denyingly), place it in one of the least appealing parts of the house since I didn't want to sacrifice a favorite room for work. I very intentionally avoid spending time on the living room couch, if only to avoid unsolicited assistance from my cat Bunter, but more importantly it feels like I am such a sloth to be working away on a place intended for other activities.

Recently, I seem to gravitate to the dining room/library looking out onto the garden as pictured above. The view is pleasant, though I have to deal with late morning sun, and there aren't the noise and visual distractions of the street from the front of the house.

I actually manage to be surprisingly disciplined on a work hour routine, starting at a business appropriate hour and not doing anything like eating chili while working on an expense report a 9 p.m. (okay, maybe once every quarter).

Having a full month not traveling, getting back into this routine is always hard. And then -- poof -- just when I think I've got it down I'll be back on the road. It's there, I sometimes think, that I seem to be my most productive. As the lyric goes "I was born in the wagon of a travelln' show..." All a junk thief needs to complete the trio is a gypsy and tramp. Any out there?