Busted!

My husband and I have both been working from home for a couple of years now.  It’s easy to get distracted when you’re at home all day – especially when you have a partner in crime – but I like to think that I have some self-discipline.  Sure, I take frequent breaks, but they’re all short in duration.  Work still comprises the bulk of my day.  At least that’s what I tell myself.

Yesterday, some very official-looking regulators showed up at our apartment unannounced to chat with my husband about his business.  When they knocked on the door, my husband and I had just woken up and were still lounging around in our pajamas.  We had just invented a really fun game where we hit balloons with hockey sticks, so the living room floor was covered in birthday balloons.

The regulators noticed how flustered we were, so they apologized and pointed out that in my husband’s paperwork, he had listed his office hours as 9am to 5pm, Monday through Friday.  My first thought was, “Wait, is it seriously Monday already?”

My next thought was, “Oh my God, I’m the laziest person ever.”  It was official business hours, and there I was loafing around in my pajamas, playing with balloons, with my computer turned off.  I had been caught red-handed.  Even though they had come to talk to my husband and not me, I felt like saying, “Okay, regulators, you got me. The jig is up.”

Thankfully, my husband is a true professional and immediately switched into business mode.  While he addressed their questions, I hid behind my laptop and tried to look busy and focused, but all I could think about was how lazy I was.

At some point, my husband mentioned that I was a writer, and one of the regulators pointed to our artwork and asked if I was a children’s author and whether I had done those children’s book illustrations myself.  I heard my husband explain, “No, that’s just our taste in art.”  After an awkward silence, he added, “She writes humorous essays.”   I was about to appear in the doorway waving a copy of the small-time regional magazine that I had been published in when the guy asked, “Oh, like for The New Yorker?”

Long. Deep. Sigh.  "No, I have not been published in The New Yorker.  As I'm sure you've deduced by now, my writing career is a sham.  But, hey, look what I can do with this hockey stick and a balloon!"

I have since vowed to start working at coffee shops or the library or even the building lobby – anywhere where blowing up balloons is frowned upon.

Housewife By Default

In the last couple of years, I’ve transitioned from working 60 hours per week, to working part-time from home, to not technically working.  The other day, I was washing dishes on a weekday afternoon in my pajamas, and I came to the panicked realization that I was, in fact, a housewife.

Not that there’s anything wrong with being a housewife.  But there’s a difference between choosing to be a housewife and becoming one by default.  During business hours, I should be focusing on my career (or lack thereof), but when I’m confronted with a pile of dirty dishes, I just can’t help myself.  If only I had my husband’s ability to ignore all domestic tasks.

It seems that I’m not the only woman with this problem.  I had trouble finding a title for this post that didn’t infringe on someone else’s copyright.  You’d be surprised how many accidental housewives and unintentional housewives are out there.  Women everywhere are "accidentally" quitting their jobs or having babies and are – through no fault of their own – winding up housewives.

One of my least favorite stereotypes is that women just want to get married so that they can stop pretending to be interested in their careers.  Okay, fine, so I sort of quit my job a few months after getting married, but I certainly didn’t plan it that way.  I had a history of saying "I quit" long before I said “I do.”  It’s not my fault that our honeymoon gave me a lot of time to reflect.  Here I am having an epiphany while riding an elephant bareback through the jungles of Thailand…

I was also suffering from post-wedding depression.  Planning a wedding is a huge distraction, and once the wedding is over, reality sets in.  The biggest day of your life is behind you, and from now on, every day will be exactly the same...  It’s no wonder so many women quit their jobs after getting married.

Since I do still want a career, I’m trying hard not to fall into housewife mode.  At this very moment, there’s a really disgusting pan in the sink, and although it’s killing me, I refuse to wash it until after 6pm.  I’m also avoiding soap operas and talk shows, sweatpants and bathrobes, and eating on the couch.  It’s too bad, because I really like eating on the couch.