Sometimes I miss going out to work.

I could do without office politics, of course, or a grumpy boss breathing down my neck, or the tension of a tight deadline.

When I work from home, I don’t need to convince anyone why spending time with my son is more important or why I need to be home when it gets dark. I don’t have the pain of daily commuting or spending hours in the heat and dust. I don’t have to make hollow-sounding excuses or endure raised eyebrows when I plead for a day’s leave.

Working from home means I can take afternoon naps and make tea when I want to. I like the convenience of doing laundry at my convenience. I can laze the whole day or watch a movie, and finish my work at night. I can juggle my job and chores and interests.

Apart from the fact that everyone automatically assumes you ‘do nothing all day’, working from home is the best thing for a person like me.

But… every once in a while, I remember the coffee machine, the gossips, the ambience, the laughter, the email chains, the bright lights, a good word from a colleague, and interesting people.

Every once in a while I feel lonely sitting alone punching my keyboard and having to step over to Twitter or Facebook to seek company.

Every once in a while, I miss going out to work.