We are beyond excited. Working from home is a huge adjustment for anyone used to going to a place with bosses and co-workers every day. Working from home with a spouse who also works from home? Add to that a spouse who works for the same people as you?? A spouse with whom you write a blog???
Fuggedaboutit. Wait, that needs italics. Fuggedaboutit. Nope. Still not banging you on the head hard enough. Let's try italics and bold. Fuggedaboutit. Better. Now say it with Robert De Niro's voice. Yes! That's it!
Marriage is hard enough when you're not all up in each other's shit all day long. But work from home with your spouse while juggling two toddlers and you're pretty much cruisin' for a bruisin,' as my mom would say. In fact, as I type this I can hear Henry screaming as Serge complains to the kids about how they need to learn to clean up after themselves while the Backyardigans add their two cents to the chaos.
So yeah. As has been well documented, Serge and I have spent the last nearly two years of our joint tenure at Babble cruisin' for a bruisin.' Slightly organized chaos is the best way I can describe our days. We've tried to designate certain hours with one of us on kid duty and the other on writing duty but our plans inevitably crumble within days of initiating them. You try telling toddlers one parent is off limits even though they're right there behind that closed door. The kids suddenly become bored by the parent on duty and attempt to storm the room of the one who is writing. Never fails. The unavailable parent is the most popular parent. Try to get your kid's attention when you've got nothing going on and they can't take their eyes off Dora. Try getting five minutes to yourself to poop and suddenly you're Ryan Gosling stumbling into a mommy blogger convention. Everybody wants a piece.
It's a tough way to get stuff done. And more importantly, as I mention in the post I linked to up there, after nearly two years of being around each other 24/7 Serge and I have come to realize that separation is imperative for a healthy marriage. In other words, GET OUT OF MY FACE. I need a chance to miss you, yo!
We've been looking into renting office space for a while now. A couple months ago we paid off one of our cars and within the next couple months we'll own our other car. Two cars, no payments. I don't think you heard me. NO CAR PAYMENTS. A state of affairs not known to me since I was 17-years-old and stupidly purchased a car on my own, without an adult present. You can imagine the stellar deal the salesman gave me.
So we've been scoping offices for rent in the town ten minutes from our farmhouse and stumbled onto a dream deal. Like, the rent is about the same as my cable bill. As you'll see if you clicked on the photos, it's a kind of an exposed pipes, bricks and stone basement situation. But we like that. We like the urban feel. Plus, it's smack dab on the main drag, within steps of everything.
We spent the weekend thrift shopping and stumbled onto some killer items I want to show you if I can get my shit together long enough to post some photos here. We hope to start a whole new era 'round these parts. No longer will we be bumbling around the house, bumping into one another all day long asking "Are you done with your writing yet because I've got some stuff I have to do." Now we can each surf youporn.com in the peace and quiet of our new office. Huzzah!
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