From 1980 to 1998 I worked in a corporate cubicle. I had a series of different jobs at different companies, most of them pretty high-paying with some prestige, but always in a cubicle. Never once did I have an office with solid walls and a door I could close to get a few moments peace from the daily corporate hell-on-earth life.
In those days, Dilbert comics gave me some much-needed, well, comic relief (yeah, I know -- bad pun). Creator Scott Adams seemed to have an uncanny knack for reflecting back EXACTLY what was going on in MY big company, and I used to wonder, "How did he KNOW?"
Like the time our VP was told by his boss, the president of the company, to look into off-shore consulting (i.e. outsourcing our jobs overseas) and I got stuck heading up the flipping project and had to deal with a team of consultants from India (who were very nice, very talented and very professional, and probably being paid about 5% of what I was getting paid for the same type of work). I kid you not, the very week before the consultants were due to arrive, Dilbert was told by HIS pointy-haired boss that he had to work with a team of off-shore consultants from a mythical country called Elbonia (that was mainly a swamp, apparently). Being able to look at those comics on my cubicle wall every day helped me keep my sanity and do the job I was hired to do, despite knowing in my heart of hearts this idea was never going to work. (Out of respect for our Indian counterparts, I made sure to always take those comics down off the wall whenever they were in town. It wasn't about them, personally... it was about the idiocy of some guy at the top making a unilateral decision because he didn't want our company to be the only one on the block NOT outsouring something.)
I remember when these strips were run in the papers, showing Dilbert discovering the joys of telecommuting, and I used to think to myself how effing great it would be if I could only do that, too. At the time I wasn't thinking about NOT having a corporate 9-5 job, but wishing I had some good reason to work from home at least some of the time, short of actually giving birth (which was the only reason they let women work from home in those days).
Then, miraculously, I got my wish. I fell at home in my living room where I missed just ONE step on the stairs, broke my left leg and ankle in three places, had emergency surgery involving a lot of hardware and morphine, and got a three-month free pass to work from home. (I guess I should have been more specific with the Universe and requested a pain-free way to achieve that goal, but then I wouldn't have gotten any Percocet or Tylenol with Codeine. The legal narcotics almost made up for having to spend four nights in the hospital orthopedic wing where some poor deranged woman with a busted hip kept the entire ward up all night shrieking at nothing but whatever was in her sad imagination.) My boss was more than happy to have me telecommute because he needed me on the job, and he sent people over to my house to hook everything up for me. He also paid for a taxi to come and bring me to physical therapy every week followed by a pit-stop in the office so I could do some in-person meetings for one half-day a week.
Just like Dilbert in the first comic, where he asks about whether he owes his boss the usual 8 hours or just the two productive ones he normally put in, I discovered that while working at home, I could actually accomplish in just a few short hours what it often took me all day to do while in the office. I had never realized before how many distractions there are, working in a company: coffee breaks, water cooler talk, long lunches, more coffee breaks, phone calls with your best friend to bitch about your jobs to each other, talking about the latest episode of Seinfeld, making fun of the neurotic angry guy who sits in the cubicle two rows over and placing bets on what new imaginary grievance is going to set him off today... I mean seriously, how does anyone who works in corporate America ever get ANYTHING done?
That little 3-month "sabbatical" of working from home taught me one important thing: I LIKED IT. A LOT. I never wanted to give it up. After nearly twenty years of working in a big office, I was ready to call it quits. And in 1998, I did. It's not always perfect -- not having a steady paycheck is the single biggest issue when you're self-employed -- but it's right for me. I've never once regretted the decision or considered going back.
Other than missing the water-cooler chit-chat, I'm much happier working at home. I can sleep in most days and set my own schedule the rest of the day. Some days I'll work a lot of hours, and others very few, depending on what's going on and which client needs what when. I can pick days to meet a friend for lunch, and take my sweet time coming back home, maybe doing some shopping on the way or going to a museum. The freedom and lack of stress has been really good for me in every imaginable way; no traffic to fight, no crazy bosses or unreasonable co-workers (although in my last job I actually had fantastic people to work with and for, for the most part), and the only deadlines are those I impose on myself. And I don't have to outsource ANYTHING unless I darn well feel like it. That's called "delegating".
I even take showers daily -- well, most days, anyway... sometimes I do give myself "pajama days" where work attire is pretty much "come as you were when you rolled out of bed that morning". But I do find that taking the time to clean up and dress in some kind of clothing appropriate for public appearances at the supermarket does help me feel like I'm supposed to be working instead of lying around watching TV.
Despite no longer working in the corporate rat-race, I still enjoy reading Dilbert when I can, and I follow Scott Adams' blog pretty regularly. It's amazing how many of his fans say the same thing I was saying all those years ago: "How did you know THAT was going on in MY company, too!"
And I'm always grateful that Dilbert gave me my first glimpse of La Vie en Rose Télécommutante (I just made that last word up; I doubt it's real French). Because who knows how long it might have taken for me to make the leap to change careers to something that lets me live in Paris or anywhere else I might choose. For all I know, I might still be held hostage in that grey corporate world in that grey corporate cubicle whining about the latest pointless corporate project. 
Working at home not only gives me a healthier way to balance my life, it also gives me time to write and blog.
But one thing I can promise you. I do not blog naked. Ever. (I can tell you're a bit relieved to hear that. I don't blame you.) I might blog in my underwear on rare occasions, but never naked.
I may be in Paris but I've still got my puritan American roots.
