I’ve had a running joke since November … people ask me if I like living in Boston, and my answer is: “I’ll tell you once I have been in town long enough to live there.”  As much as I joke, the fact is there is a fair bit of truth to it.

My job is theoretically a ‘work-from-home’ role, where I will travel to different plants in my company a few times a month but … again theoretically … can settle into the day-to-day activities for about half my work schedule out of my house.  Yet in November, we became aware of two issues that left me with no choice but to split most my time either in New Hampshire or in Connecticut.  Now before some of you start saying “that’s got to be a quick drive cause all those states are so close” well hold your horses kiddies.   Both of them are nearly 2 hours from my place, and not in the same direction.  The distance is just long enough that if I plan to visit one of those plant more than once in a week these days I just plan on booking a hotel for that time (and am getting to know the Auggie friendly hotels).  Of course, if I am going to do that, I might as well beat Monday morning or Friday night traffic and just get the room for one more day.

That’s what happened this past week.  I kicked off my work week at 6PM on Sunday night to head tor Berlin, CT spending my nights in a Hartford suburb of Manchester.  My goal the whole week was to knock out enough work that I could leave midday on Friday to make it home for the whole weekend.  Between the snows and .. things not going to plan … I chose to spend one last night, to be exact last night, in Manchester.  Sleeping in and taking my time, the pup and I finally ended a work week when we got home about 1PM today.

The house I came home to was much how I left it.  Which since I am still in some state of furnishing was quite barren.  My living room has a single recliner (which the pup thinks he has every right to fill up as I do) and lots of open floor space.  The dining room has a 20 year old card table we used to use for Sunday night burnt chicken.  My ‘home office’ is three quarters boxes on the floor.  I should be working on this, I should be doing something about all of this, but instead I what I am doing tonight is recharging.  I am running the laundry, throwing out the rotten bananas, cleaning up the car, maybe heading to the Banshee to watch some football, but basically not doing anything much more than taking time away from work — because come tomorrow, it starts again. Okay, I might do it all commuting this week, but not the point.

The point is, my home, that was at first to be my base of operation, is now more of my recharging station.  The place where I go to just relax, cool off, and shake the cobwebs loose.  Today is a break, and let tomorrow be what it is.