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Last Tuesday, our city was a sheet of ice. We live on top of a large hill overlooking downtown and attempted to get to work as usual for 7:30 a.m. We never made it past a few blocks the first try. Our second try ended mid-way down the hill. When we saw cars sliding off the road and down embankments we chose to park and walk.
That icy walk down to the store reminded me of the benefits that working from home can bring. I spent a year doing eBay for Dan out of my daughter's old bedroom turned office. I got to work in my pajamas, eat or nap when I wanted, sunned myself on the front porch during lunch and got to spend time with my two Scotties.
While a shop can be enjoyable and lucrative, the moments like yesterday as I slid along the sidewalk hoping neither Dan nor I would knock the other on our backside, the grass seemed mighty greener. By noon, however, the sun melted everything and old friends began filing in to share their own commuter woes with us. I don't know if the weather had a beneficial effect, but our sales were good. And that grass on this side of the fence started to look a bit healthier.
Whatever choice we've each made about how or where we want to sell books, we are lucky. We enjoy a freedom most people can only dream about. And in our professional careers we have had the excitement of seeing a new technology completely transform the marketplace to an extent only rivaled by the industrial revolution. But unlike our unluckier forebears, we do not have to trudge to the "book factory." We can, if we so choose, close the door to our own little study, sip a cup of piping hot chocolate and watch the snow fall while we count the orders that came in while we slept.
Edith Reynolds
Email: edith@bookologist.com
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