A Porch is a Porch, Of Course of Course.

photo 2I was starting to get pruny from soaking in my geographical jealousy over the outdoor living spaces of my Southern friends when it hit me. I actually do have a porch.

I mean, our house, which one could only really refer to as a compound if you saw it because it’s so disco and weird, is an awesome little slice of 1960’s California Modern, but lo and behold there’s this whole very dramatic cement bridge and entry way that never occurred to me was actually a pretty decent sized porch. 

Working from home has become a person hell for me. I have no sanctuary in my home. I sit at the same table I dine with my family at and entertain friends over. I’m like a hermit by accident, and it’s slowly driving me crazy.

But moving my ass out onto the porch and setting up shop under the shade of our big tree? Internet and plugs are available to me, and well…it’s quiet there. No one can see me from the street, and if I wear my headphones, I barely notice the mailman coming and going. I may just have to turn that dirt-filled planter back in to the Koi pond it once was in it’s heyday so I can hear a bubbling brooke in my office. But then I’d have to get fish. And we have a hunting dog and stuff. I think I need to think about this more.


Of course, great discoveries can’t stay secret for long. But I’m good with sharing.

Feed Me Seymour