the blue muse

Lots of pajamas and a pair of jeans. This is what my laundry looks like.

I am lucky, very lucky. I get to work in those same pajamas. My commute consists of a ten foot walk from my bedroom to my studio. I get to stay inside when it is cold and snowy. And when it rains. I get to sneak outside to watch the baby swallows as they grow. And go running at lunch. And have morning tea in my garden.

I try, every day, to remember to savor every one of these things, to be aware of just how lucky I am.

Now, there are days when I don’t feel so lucky. Some days stress manages to trump all the things that are great about working at home. Like the fact that I never actually leave work… because I literally live there. The fact that I have ten different deadlines looming over my head and it’s already 3:00 o’clock. Or the fact that I am where the bucks stops, that there is no one else to do this work if I can’t get it done.

And there’s also sleep head. My hair has never survived a night of sleep without looking like, well, it was just slept in. Medusa-like. Frightening. And I try to shower late in the day, in the hopes that at some point I will be able to fit in a run or some other form of exercise. And most of the time, my sleep head isn’t a problem, because it’s just me and the dog. Except for when the UPS man shows up. And I open the door at 1:00 p.m. looking like I just this minute rolled out of bed.

Well, I know that I’ve been at work since seven a.m., even if he doesn’t. And I might even still be at work at seven p.m. Or nine. But that’s okay. Because in between that morning commute and my short shuffle back into bed at night, I will remind myself how truly lucky I am to be here. To be able to make a living doing the things I love. At home. In my pajamas. Singing out loud.

Sorry mister UPS man. I didn’t mean to make you run screaming back to your truck. It might be better if you called first next time…