As far as the boss knows,
I’ll be working from home on Friday.
But certainly there’s no harm
in taking a laptop to the coffee shop by the library.
I can sit at a honey-colored, slightly wobbly, wooden table there,
plug my laptop into the nearest outlet,
and stare meaningfully at a virtual blank, white page.
Smudges on my screen.
Ugh, my dog is always wiping her nose on it.
This is because when I actually work from home,
she wants my undivided attention.
But here at the coffee shop by the library, I’ll be focused.
Tip-tapping urgently at my keyboard.
Sipping my chai tea.
Nibbling a chocolate chip cookie
because, what the hell, I deserve it.
It’s not easy to work
when George Michael
(God rest his soul)
is creeping me out, singing
“I’ll be your daddy, whoa!”
above me and all around me.
So I put on my headphones
and listen to some bouncy Django Reinhardt
because I feel like that’s how a coffee shop should sound.
There’s always a pair of women nearby who are all
BLAH BLAH BLAH,
practically shouting,
even though a coffee shop is where you’re supposed
to be quiet and important.
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