The only sure thing
Working from home has started to feel a lot more mentally displacing than I expected. The routine and atmosphere of the office—artificial lighting, air conditioning I don't have to worry about paying for, carpeted floors—turns out to be a lot more stimulating than working at the desk beside my bed.
Of course, I wouldn't wanna be ungrateful for working from home. I cherish the moments where I don't have to bear the Philippines' horrible, horrible public transpo system. The thing I'm having to deal with is the fact that on weekends I'm at home. And on weekends (as much as possible) I do not work.
What happens when I find myself at the place where I do not work... on a work day?
Friction. An uphill climb to cross off something, anything from my to dos.
The best part of my work from home days, though, is the morning. Without needing to commute, I can wake up early and work out. Swimming, walking, or half an hour in the gym is more than just a healthy habit. They're anchors to me.
So amidst the afternoon battles between productivity vs. power naps on a cozy bed, I remember my mornings in reverence. How sure they felt. How secure I was.