I have a home office. It was in fact a home studio for many a year, where I broadcast my thoughts across the land every morning via an ISDN line. What is an ISDN line, you ask? It stands for Integrated Serviced Digital Network, and I see you’re bored already. It’s basically a dedicated phone line that makes it sound like I’m actually in the studio of whatever station I’m on, when in fact I’m in my jammies on the top floor of my house. It was a great set up. I got to work from home, hang with my family, no commute, no hair and make-up, no office politics, no small talk in the halls, just me and my computer and the ISDN line. On the downside, I often didn’t see anyone but my family. I could, and did, wear yoga pants for days on end, often forgetting to comb my hair, let alone put on lipstick. If you work at home, you know what I’m talking about. Did you hear the one about the agoraphobic? Never mind, it’s an inside joke.

Although I didn’t leave the house that much, I was live on the air every morning in Halifax, Montreal, Winnipeg, Calgary, Edmonton and Vancouver (in addition to Toronto). It was great. I became friends with people across the country, some of whom I have yet to meet in the flesh to this day. B.J. Burke, Hal Anderson, Dave Wheeler, Brother Jake Edwards, Willy Percy, J’Lyn Nye, Jeff McArthur, Ted Bird, Nat Lauzon. Terry DiMonte at CHOM in Montreal remains a dear family friend. Nothing like starting the day laughing and talking with your friends from the comfort of your home, and getting paid for it. It was a dream gig, but all good things come to an end, and new good things begin. Now I go into the Rogers Campus in Toronto at 4:40 every morning, and hang out with new friends. I blow dry my hair, and wear makeup and outside clothes like a real working lady. I have a laptop, and a building pass, and a parking spot. When I stop at Tim Horton’s, I order the usual, and sometimes I don’t even have to explain what that is.

But the home office remains. They took the ISDN line out, but I still work from here, doing show prep, paying bills, and ordering online stuff I don’t really need. (Seriously, I just spent an hour sourcing a new plastic floor mat to protect the carpet under my chair. The Internet is the devil’s playground.) Virginia Woolf said that in order to be creative, a woman must have a room of her own, so this is mine, although I wouldn’t call ordering a floor protector an act of creativity. Do you have a place of your own? Maybe it’s in the basement, or under the stairs, or just the kitchen table. Let me know. Send me a picture. Here’s mine, and yes, that IS this blog post on the screen. Glad we can share this metaphysical moment.

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