One of the good things about getting older is that it turns out to be okay to slow down once in awhile. I wonít be sixty for almost two years, and most of the time I feel as if Iím still on the sunny side of forty, but there are days when I feel like giving myself permission to downshift the pace of my life. My hand gets tired of holding a pencil, so I let it take an hour off. And with the hand goes the rest of me.
Itís nice. I no longer feel as if I should feel guilty. (I donít think I ever did really feel guilty.)
It makes it easier to take a stand like this when I know I donít have to answer to anybody for my time. All I have to do is get the work done, and working at home gives me the advantage of doing it when Iím in the mood. Not that Iím ever in the mood, but there are times when I have more energy and fewer distractions, and thatís when Iím most productive. If I take a little nap during the day, or spend some time reading, I donít resent working until well past eight oíclock, as I did tonight to finish the weekly payroll.
The Boss doesnít know it, but fifteen years ago, when I worked for him in an actual office at a real desk, I would sometimes fall asleep sitting up, when he wasnít around. I read the morning paper from cover to cover during the course of the day. There was no TV in the office, and we werenít online then, but I know that if the Internet were available, Iíd have been on it all day. And I went home every day at 4:00 pm.
Still, Iíll take the fluid style of getting the job done that Iíve perfected since I moved out of that office and away from that desk.