Why the hell is procrastination so damn expensive? Today instead of producing 150 pages of neatly typed brilliance, I found myself starting my Christmas shopping as the latest avoidance tactic. Within ten minutes of sitting down to work I had bought a lovely cardigan from Anthropologie and my Dad’s present....This is my Dad, who wants nothing in life more than a good book and the occasional hug, and for whom Christmas is just another day except for the fact that his potatoes are roasted not boiled. Why, instead of being efficient and professional, am I scouring Amazon for books about garden perennials and enough warm woolly socks to allow me to retain position as the favoured child. What’s wrong with me?
Eventually when there were no more things for me to buy anywhere on the whole internet, I flipped back to my Word document and got to work, all the while of course, wearing today’s choice of “work” clothes. No suits and boots for me, I tell you. No – I take a more casual approach when I work from home. And even then I play it fast and loose with my definition of casual.
While some days I neglect showering and dressing altogether, today I put some effort in and the sartorial elegance is some sort of MC Hammer pants and a black strappy t-shirt. I even went to the trouble of putting on a bra.
I think the official name of the pants is harem trousers - there are excessive swathes of material around the hips, the crotch is resting comfortably against my patellas. It’s a hideous concept and quite frankly an unbridled use of otherwise perfectly acceptable material, and yet apparently these nightmares were all the rage last season - for which reason that somebody saw fit to give me a pair as a gift.
Obviously I deleted that person from my phonebook and blocked them on Facebook, and we shall never again speak of them....but when nobody is looking and everything else is in the wash basket, I drag them out as a last resort. But they’re bad. They’re very bad. Somebodywith a generously proportioned arse should never ever wear a pair of trousers whose sole existence is for the purpose of making the wearers arse appear even bigger. MC Hammer was wrong – you *can* touch this. Not that you’d want to.
The casual approach to office wear fits well with the set up I have going on while I am working on this project....this is what my living room looks like.
Yes my floor is my filing cabinet, yes, the Ocado bag is office supply cupboard, and yes, my ironing board is my desk. Whatever else you call me, don’t ever say I am not the consummate professional.
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