home is where the office is

I've been collecting a few things (objects, people, phenomena) that I will miss when I leave Gabs. These range from the obvious (my friends) to the less so (the smell of the dump on fire). But one thing I know I will not miss is working from home.

I spent more time between September 2002 and July 2006 in a particular library at a particular university (which shall go unnamed) that I really care to recall. Really, there are much lovelier places to spend one's time. It's an amazing library; it has a really stunning collection. But it is a giant concrete block. (A giant concerete block rumoured to resemble the shape of the continental US for reasons that have to do with the individual who gave money for this building and the item upon which he built his fortune.) But never mind that. It's a block. With some windows. Which I generally avoided by retreating to the basement for better concentration.

But oh, god, I hate working from home -- though it Botswana this has generally taken the form of working from other people's homes, vagrant that I am. I can, and do, read for 'work' at home, but I don't write well at home. But more than anything, it's the feeling of isolation. At least in the library, I was surrounded by a bunch of other people gazing at their computers (or navels) with equal intensity.

If I can't have an office -- and look, I haven't had an office since August 2000, and even that one wasn't exactly private -- I'd like more options than the dining room table or a coffeeshop.