WFH

You know, working from home.  Or, in my case, working from a hip, downtown coffee shop with real wood floors, pretending that my life is other than it is.  Pretending that I don't work in a stale gray cubicle with no  access to natural light in a suburb whose name and face you will forget after being away for more than two minutes.  I like to work from this coffee shop, put a faux Apple sticker on the back of my decidedly uncool laptop, and imagine I  drive a hybrid (any one will do) instead of a teal 97 Mercury Tracer. And that I work for an uber-trendy architectural firm in a loft in the warehouse district rather than the truth - that the only thing that keeps me going every day is the hope that my company's stock will hit $16 and I'll make a cool $600 on my options. Cha-ching. Big weekend to celebrate? Buloxi, here I come.