I worked from home today.
My wife and son were sick and I asked if we could rearrange the reference desk shifts so I could do my fair share first thing in the morning and then go home to watch and take care of the kid's sicky needs, and let my wife sleep and get better (and get her things as she needed them - she didn't), and at the same time, get as much done from work as I needed to do at least for tomorrow.
It actually turned out well because, although I was watching my little 4 year old son in the living room, and he has a tendency to get up and raise hell even when he's sick, he was pretty tuckered out and managed to sleep for several hours, during which I got quite a bit done. Excellent.
But the whole affair brought back how much I wish I had a good workspace: office, writing room, home library, inner sanctum, fortress of solitude, Batcave, happy place... whatever you want to call it. And subscribing to Lifehacker doesn't help. They're always writing stuff about how some reader or whoever has created the perfect unique workspace: built their own standing desk, turned a unused corner into a haven for something needing a haven, or whatnot. I don't have anything like that. And I wish I did.
We have a basement... which is actually not as bad as it sounds, despite it being pretty bad. We live in a small backsplit house and so a good third of the house is a half a storey below the ground floor. It's semi-finished (meaning it's got temporary carpeting and fake wood panelling all over it - I think Dennis Leary's dad lived here) but it's not enough and there's no privacy or soundproofing or coolness.
It's got to be cool. You've got to have a space you like to be in, that you're proud of, that you want to spend time in.
Maybe the next house. Hmmm...