Towards the end of seventh grade I received my first real bike. A bright orange ten-speed. It was amazing, my first “grown up” bike and my first step into being a teenager.
I road that bike everywhere, spending hours listening to the whirl of the tires and clank of the gear changes. On a warm evening weeks before school let out I was riding on a rural highway when I heard a truck come up behind me. The next thing I remember is waking up on the side of the road.
I was in the hospital for several weeks with a broken leg, arm, and missing skin from torso and back. Even parts of my head where scalped. I would spend my days watching the traffic move on W 16th street in Greeley, Colorado. This was followed by a hot summer at home in a leg and arm cast. Home bound watching the three channels of local TV.
I don’t bring this up as a tortured Steve story, but more as to explain the reason why I have a low tolerance of spending my days at my house. Sitting on our twelve foot long sofa watching Phil Donahue on our Montgomery Wards nineteen inch television I decided I was going to get out on my new ten-speed and never spend another day sitting at home. And I’ve never did. Spend another day at home or get another ten-speed.
This week marks my first work at home week. Sitting at my desk doing exactly what I’ve always done, yet. At home. All day. I’ve also scrubbed all the grout, cleaned every inch of baseboard and the dog is freshly bathed. I think that I need to change the way I think about being home all day. That it’s not about being trapped and home bound it’s “cocooning” it’s uncapping my creativity used up by a commute.