One of the best non-monetary benefits offered by my day job is the ability to work from home on occasion. I don’t get to take advantage of the benefit as much as I might like as I frequently have long meeting days. But when I do, it is wonderful. Every now and then I will start my work from home days with a run, smug with the knowledge that I am getting fresh air and exercise during a time I would normally be stuck in traffic. But even on the days I am lazy, I still can sit down at the desk more relaxed than on a non-telecommute day.
That is until I attempt to fire up the computer and log in.
The trouble is my hubby, the entrepreneur, also works from home from time to time and likes to mess with my settings. I prefer easy to find folders on my desktop. He prefers a minimalist approach and has been known to move my folders without first asking permission. Sometimes he has introduced new equipment that makes his job easier, but makes mine exponentially harder. It doesn’t seem to matter if we keep to separate computers, something he does on his will inevitability effect mine. If my plans don’t pan out, I could probably get a job in the IT field based on the amount of times I’ve had to diagnose and correct a network error or conduct a system restore.
He can be frustratingly inconsiderate at times, and now I need to admit I’ve met someone.
When I was in college, all I was looking in a boyfriend was someone witty. Someone with my same dry humor. Someone that could hold his own in a debate, but someone who wouldn’t overpower you with his opinions. He had to be fun to be around, but serious when it came to work or school. Someone who I wouldn’t mind introducing to my friends. Someone who had a car. Yes – I freely admit I was shallow like that. I wasn’t looking for a serious relationship and my college campus was large. I met a nice guy and started dating him.
When I graduated, the economy tanked. It wasn’t easy for a person with my limited resume to get an interview, much less a job. Rent and other bills were still due, and it was easy to become overwhelmed. Now I needed someone who could be supportive and willing to roll up his own sleeves. Someone who would recognize the sacrifices I was willing to make. Someone who was willing to make just as many if not more. Someone who I wouldn’t mind introducing to my family. I met a dependable guy and married him.
While I lay in the delivery room, sure that I’d die in agony from childbirth complications, I screamed, cried, and acted anything but ladylike. I wanted the source of my condition to be far, far away, and yet was terrified that he’d leave my side for a second. I never needed to worry. He was just as eager to be introduced to our sons as I was. I met a guy who would become a great father.
When the time came to end our dog’s (our 1st kid of the furry kind’s) suffering, my hubby was there with me. Without him I would have crumpled into a heap of tears, confusing our dog’s last moments. He held my hand as we said goodbye. I met a caring guy who would help me find the strength to be compassionate.
When I decided to start writing, he was my first reader. You should never forget to be grateful to those who helped you get your start. While I normally write for an audience of other writers, entrepreneurs, working parents, and friends, this post is for that guy I met so many years ago.
You’ve made me laugh more than you ever made me cry. You bring me balance. You continue to inspire me to chase my dreams with optimism and determination. But you still drive me crazy when you mess with my stuff. Stop it. I am trying to work here.