While there are innumerable perks to working from home, there have been some uber weird moments recently where I’ve been caught off guard by my own ridiculousness. Here are a few that I’ve taken note of in the past month. I’m sure there are about a billion more.

You’re home to greet the maintenance guy. 
While at first this doesn’t sound like a bad thing, when you become buddy buddy with the building janitor it’s all the more awkward when he shows up to plunge your toilet. In my defense, I’ve managed to go three full years without having to call a plumber, so I think my commode was just ripe for a good ol’ clogging. When Carlos showed up at my door, plunger in hand, I sheepishly directed him towards my bathroom mumbling something about my roommate being at fault… But Carlos knew. He knew.

You don’t say words out loud. 
When you’re home alone for days on end, there is no reason to speak unless it’s to answer an errant phone call from your grandmother or shout expletives in reaction to yet another FB engagement announcement. I communicate with my coworkers almost exclusively via email, gchat, and digital chat rooms, so we very rarely say actual words. When I finally experience a form of human interaction (with the local barista or my parents or my roommate) I tend to talk a mile a minute and viciously over share. Tasha – my latte master – has heard the non-abbreviated version of my grandfather’s funeral, my sister’s five-year business plan, and my high school friend’s prenuptial agreement. I just can’t keep words inside when I’m finally given the chance to speak. It’s like explosive word vomit every time I see another person (hmmm maybe that’s what destroyed my toilet…)

It becomes acceptable to not wear clothes until mid-afternoon. 
I don’t really like clothes. Never have. I find them itchy and constricting and unflattering on my figure. If I had a tailor who could fashion me zip-up onesies made entirely from lululemon’s stretchy luon fabric, I’d be much more amenable to staying covered up. But, home alone with no plans other than to write from my couch? Why do I need a bra for that? Who said pants have to be a mandatory garment? The other day I sat in bed wearing nothing but an oversized sweater until 2 pm. TWO PEE EM. I’m not sure if this represents a lowly lowly low or an epic high.

Is this what winning at life feels like?

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