Working from home may be hazardous to your (my)...

Personal hygiene. This morning was the morning. It was time to shave my legs (etc.) - now the bathtub looks like I bathed the dog in it (along with a few of her friends). Last week, at C's hair appointment, the stylist called me over and said to me (in a hushed voice) "let's tackle those eyebrows. It's time." Strangely, I didn't get all bent out of shape over it. Am I getting old? I remember when my Grandma (the other grandma) got a little older and regularly hit the beach in an almost completely transparent swimsuit (they get threadbare, you know). Whenever someone pointed it out (and trust me, no one in that family - god love 'em - has been know to shy away from pointing it - whatever it may be - out), she brushed it off and said, "they don't have to look" (and off she toddled, bare bum silhouetted in the sunlight).

Social skills. Other than the occasional impromptu conversation at the kids' school drop-off and pick-up or lunch/coffee with a friend, K is my main source of adult human communication. If you know K, you know that's cause for concern. Even more concerning? I'm enjoying my hermit tendencies.

Eating patterns. Soup for breakfast? Grits and eggs for dinner? Fruit Roll-up for lunch? No one's watching, right? It can't possibly be worse for me than lunch at the College Cafe.

Fashion sense. How many ways can I rock (the same comfy pair of) jeans and black t-shirts? I feel a little like Simon Cowell on American Idol (but not as rich, British, or enamored of my man-nipples).

Desire to climb the (non) corporate ladder. Outside of the workplace where publication records, professional affiliations, and airline miles mean very little I find I enjoy good, honest, get it done and pass it on kind of work. I find myself pontificating less and less. I think I may be in recovery.