Someone today mentioned "working at home" and "discipline" in the same sentence today, and I cringed. Freelancers always talk about working at home as though it were some sort of prison, or conversely, a louche afterhours party waiting to drag one down into the muck of unrepentant hedonism; a promising destination that requires constant vigilance not to enter. I don't really feel that way: I'm one of those people whose mind is constantly humming no matter what I'm doing. Even if I'm not on the clock, I'm usually making lists or sending one last email or otherwise being hyper-efficient. Also, I don't own a television and so it's fairly easy to stay focused during the day with little opportunity for distraction. My biggest indulgence is taking my notebook and phone and whatever books I'm reading to the cafe down the street, and sitting there for an hour or two. This costs ridiculous amounts of money over time, however, and that's the one thing I don't have a surfeit of at the moment. So, in response, I've decided to make my apartment more clubby and cafe-like. For starters, I made a list of magazines I'd like to have on hand to flip through on a tea break: n + 1, Mizna, Work, Black Clock, and Elle Decor. Other capital investments to be made this week: fresh flowers, more lapsang souchong tea, and a crisp new Clarefontaine notebook.
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