Who knew working from home could be so difficult? I had always envisioned it as a time when I could sit down, undisturbed, and accomplish a particular task. Coffee from the coffee pot, the cat on the cushion by the window, lovely solitude.

Well, hold on, pardner. Not so fast. First there is the telephone call from someone I'm going to be meeting later, to change the time of our appointment.

Then there's the conversation (albeit an enjoyable one) with the house mate over coffee.

Then another phone call from someone trying to convince me to vote the way I'm already going to vote anyway. If he kept on with his spiel much longer, I was going to hang up on him, rude or not.

Then a loud knocking on the door, doorbell ringing, loud knocking. A courteous Hispanic man telling me that he would make an offer on the old VW in the driveway. He insisted on giving me his name and phone number, and he was so nice about it that I didn't have the heart to give him the brush-off. And he would be interested in recyclables, old furniture, etc.

Eventually, I turned on the computer, booted up the program I needed to use, had the first part of the analysis underway, when the phone rang again. My housemate had forgotten something, could I find it and bring it to her at her job. Sure, why not. I have nothing else to do. And, truth be told, if our situations were reversed, she'd do the same for me.

So here it is, 10 a.m., and I'm *finally* getting down to work. That is, if the vagaries of life allow it.