Nest is never quite empty

I was digging around in a file cabinet in my home office when I found a cowboy tucked into one corner of a drawer. He's quite the frontiersman, armed with a rifle, a pistol and a knife, and crouched in a kneeling position perfect for sniping.

Been a long time since our sons -- ages 21 and nearly 19 -- played with little plastic cowboys. Wonder how long that cowboy has been waiting in that drawer for someone to rescue him?

You can't tell it from my stellar cellphone photography, but the cowboy is pretty detailed, with windswept bandana, fringed shirt and the words, on his base, "Made in China."

I'm keeping him on my desk, a reminder that my sons are never as far away as they seem.

Open House on Sunday

A reminder: Realtor Patte Jelavich hosts an Open House at our 4BR house this Sunday, 1-4 p.m. The address is 3882 Tea Rose Court in west Redding, CA.

For details and slide show, click here.

Building distractions

I was still on my first cup of coffee when I heard men shouting and the grumble of machinery outside.

I went to the front window, and found that the street was lined by trucks and other equipment. Not one, but two backhoes were being unloaded from trailers. Through sheer deductive reasoning (and the company logo on the nearest truck), I surmised that my neighbor across the way was getting a swimming pool.

Which meant my workday here in the old home office had just been shot to hell.

Neighborhood construction brings all work to a halt for office rats like me. It's not just the noise; we've got headphones and "ear buds" to block that out. It's the overall commotion. Things are happening out there, men are doing things and machines are growling and beeping. The very earth itself is being shoveled up and hauled away. How can I focus on my computer screen when real men are doing real work right over there? Shouldn't I go watch?

Yes, I should. And there go the next several hours.

A lot of us guys never got over the sandbox. Give us some Tonka toys and a pile of dirt and pretty soon we're crawling around, sputtering vroom-vroom noises. Show us a construction site, and we’re set for hours, just watching.

The construction process is the magic of something from nothing. A concrete result, so different from the ephemera that most of us generate all day. It's simply fascinating to guys, which is why they cut peepholes in fences around big-city building sites.

Most of the time, I can withstand the siren song of the Caterpillar. But when construction comes right to my own neighborhood, it's too compelling to ignore. Workmen swoop in like the team from "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition," bringing bulldozers and dump trucks and concrete pumps. Churning up dust and noise.

And I'm there at the window, staring at the bustle like it was ESPN.

There's the obvious allure of heavy machinery. But there's another dirty little truth at work here, too: Nothing is more satisfying than watching honest, hard, sweaty work being performed by someone else.

At the last house we owned, we paid some guys to build a large covered patio in our back yard. The floor of the patio was brick, and the bricklayers spent days on their knees, under a brutal sun. I felt sympathy for the poor devils, sure, maybe even a little guilt because I was indoors in the air-conditioning while they suffered. But I couldn’t tear myself away from that window.

Then there was the day I looked up from my desk to find a man dangling on ropes in my neighbor's towering elm trees. He swung like Tarzan from limb to limb, lopping off branches with a screaming half-sized chainsaw. Guys on the ground gathered up the fallen limbs and fed them into a big yellow -- grrrzzzzzt! -- shredder. Oh, my.

Grrrzzzzzt! There went my productivity.

Eventually, I was forced to ask: What kind of man was I, sitting all day at a keyboard, peck-peck-peck, while real men were out doing manly jobs like bricklaying and chainsaw trapeze?

What kind of man was I? The air-conditioned kind, that's what. The kind who'd rather remain seated indoors, thanks very much. I'll take cool and safe. Nobody ever cut his arm off, typing.

But I'm always happy to watch the Construction Channel when it happens by. Forget about lost man-hours. Make popcorn.

Hazardous duty

To: All home-based workers
From: The federal Work-at-Home Occupations Administration (WHOA)

It has come to our attention here at WHOA that a growing number of Americans are working at home, partly because high gasoline prices discourage commuting and partly because workers are tired of getting dressed in the morning.

WHOA warns all Americans that home offices have their dangers, same as other workplaces. Hazards often are overlooked because there is no direct management supervision. While this may make workers “happy,” it also means there’s no one to enforce safety regulations or say “put that down before you hurt yourself.”

People who work at home may not practice proper “ergonomics” (from the Latin for “hunchback”). They use desks and/or chairs purchased at rummage sales and slapped together any old which-way rather than government-approved, adjustable office furniture designed to enforce proper posture. This can result in long-term health issues and bad vibes.

Research has shown that these are the Top 10 injuries suffered by at-home workers:

1) Carpal tunnel syndrome is a severe nerve problem in the wrists caused by improper computer “keyboarding” and mouse usage. Make sure your chair and computer are properly aligned so that you maintain a “wide stance.” Repetitive motions, such as those that result from playing Guitar Hero, should be avoided.

2) Eating and drinking at your desk is hazardous, particularly if hot coffee is involved. Not only can injury result, but studies have found that eating chips-and-salsa over your keyboard can result in computer failure.

3) Paper cuts are common and can be quite painful, especially if you get salt and/or salsa in the wounds. Workers should always wear gloves.

4) Bruises result from inadvertently whamming knees and elbows into your desk or into other immovable objects in the home office. Safety tip: Sit still.

5) Many at-home workers fall afoul of fasteners such as staples, paper clips and thumbtacks. These metal objects will pierce the skin, and infection can result. Scotch tape is recommended for all applications.

6) Rubber bands, placed under too much strain, can snap and give the user painful “hickeys.”

7) Beware the paper shredder.

8) Many home-office accidents result from workers standing on swivel chairs or other inappropriate places in attempts to reach high shelves or change light bulbs. This behavior should be avoided. Keep office supplies and other items on the down-low to avoid overreaching.

9) Most home offices are equipped with many electrical gizmos, including, but not limited to: Computers, monitors, scanners, printers, shredders, fans, lamps, phones, coffeemakers, stereos and assorted power tools. Do not plug all of these items into the same outlet, surge protector or power strip. You could start a fire and/or electrocute yourself, which could prevent you from making your production quotas.

10) Madness is a common ailment among those who work at home. Combining your office workload with the many demands of home, spouse and children can push you right over the edge. Most health insurance plans do not cover deadline madness, gibbering insanity or “the jumps.” On the other hand, if you’re at home all day, nobody will witness you talking to yourself or behaving strangely. (Other than family members, and they’re probably used to it by now.)

Many at-home workers are self-employed or freelance, which means they have little or no health insurance and no Washington lobbyists on their payrolls. It’s especially important for these workers to avoid injury and/or death.

Contact our agency for further information. We’re here to help. When you think of working at home, think WHOA.

Cussing at computers

My wife and I are in the home office we share and she says, “Sure is a lot of muttering in here.”

She was right, though I hadn’t noticed until she mentioned it. We weren’t muttering at each other or even talking to ourselves. We both were grumbling at our computers.

Like many people who work at home, we spend all day every day sitting at computers. Much of that time is spent in one-sided conversations with the machines.

The computers rarely talk back, so we don’t get into that creepy “2001: A Space Odyssey” thing: “Sorry, but I can’t do that. Dave.” In fact, I keep the volume on my computer turned off, so it says nothing at all. I find those cheery “You’ve got mail!” announcements unnerving.

But my wife and I have lots to say to our computers, mostly along the lines of “Hurry up, you dirty $*@&#!”

Computers never go fast enough. Get the most powerful machine available, hook it up to the fastest DSL line, operate it expertly, and still the whole process seems too slow. Oh, it might seem fast at first, but as soon as you get accustomed to the new speed, you’re back to, “Come on! I haven’t got all MINUTE!”

Our impatience with computers is particularly acute when we’re roaming the Internet.

I click on a Web address and it starts to open on my screen. The little color bar creeps from left to right, showing that the computer is working on calling up the site. I start getting itchy. I watch that color bar so closely, you’d think it was my electrocardiogram. After, oh, 15 seconds, I give up.

“Never mind,” I mutter. “I didn’t want to look at it that bad.”

As if another 10 seconds would make a difference. As if my time is so valuable that I can’t wait.

(On the other hand, how many of us will say on our deathbeds, “I wish I’d spent more time waiting for YouTube nonsense to buffer.”)

Not all the mumbling and grumbling is impatience. Some centers on rhetorical questions -- “Why won’t the computer let me do this?” “Where did my file go?” “Why did I ever choose to work with machines?” These are philosophical ponderings for which there are no answers.

Sometimes, our computer carping is aimed at particular aggravations, such as pop-up ads or spam or unwanted “updates” or our own typos. These verbalizations involve words that we’d never inflict on other humans, especially if children are present, but we feel free to bleat at our computers.

Some of the muttering is actual communication. Pleas for help, usually, and therein lies a certain danger. If your officemate asks for assistance and you ignore her because you think she’s just griping at her screen again -- well, let’s say misunderstandings can occur.

At times like these, the best answer might be: "Sorry, but I can't do that. Dave."

Curve balls in my pajamas

Because my “beat” is life in the home office, I keep my Internet search-crawler thingies set to hunt for news on the-ever-more-popular option of working in one’s pajamas.

This sometimes turns up Web sites that aren’t what I intended, but lingerie is always fascinating, too.

Recently, an item called “Marshall Loeb’s Daily Money Tip” from Marketwatch.com popped up on my computer screen. The article by magazine big-shot Marshall Loeb is headlined: “Stay on Track Working From Home.” It warns that “the ease of working from home can throw a curve ball in the career path,” then gives five tips for succeeding in a home office, all aimed at taking the job more seriously and striking a “healthy balance” between work and home life.

After 11 years toiling in a home office, linked to the world by computer cable, I feel I am eminently qualified to say: Hahaha on that, Mr. Loeb.

First of all, sir, working at home is not a career “curve ball.” It’s a slider. People often make that mistake.

Secondly, people who work in regular offices in our crappy economy can’t seem to strike a “healthy balance” between work and home, either. Why should anyone expect that of us at-home types? Just because we don’t waste time commuting doesn’t mean we manage our time any better than anybody else. I’m still late, everywhere I go, there’s more work to do all the time, and my children think my name is “Gimme Money.” I’m just like you.

Thirdly, you urge at-home workers to take their jobs more seriously, to treat them like regular jobs. You are clearly missing the whole point, sir. Rules and dress codes and pinhead bosses are the reasons we left the regular workplace and went home. We don’t need to inflict those restraints on ourselves.

Still, some might benefit from seeing Mr. Loeb’s ideas for success, so I’ll pass them along. With comment.

“1. Separate your work space from the rest of your home and spend time in it only when you are working.”
This is wonderful advice for those who have spare rooms and padlocks, but I disagree with your next assertion that “kids and spouses do not belong there.” What if spouses share an office? What if children insist on running around the house, making noise and messes? That’s why God invented headphones.

“2. Sit at your desk at the same time every day and keep normal business hours.”
Some of my best ideas come at 3 a.m. I get up and I write them down right away. I can always nap later.

“3. Dress in a way that will help you feel professional.”
Mr. Loeb adds, “it helps to get out of your pj’s and put on a crisp shirt.”

No, it does not. Physical comfort frees the mind. I do all my best work in pajamas. I’m wearing pajamas right now. Mwah-ha-ha-hah.

“4. Disregard house chores until the end of the business day.”
Okey-doke. How about if I disregard them until Saturday?

“5. If your work does not require constant access to e-mail, turn off your e-mail program and check messages only at scheduled times.”
Turn off my e-mail? But I require constant access. I need nonstop incoming stimuli while I sit at the computer all day. Also, jokes from friends.

I need my computer sifting through all the information in the entire world and delivering to me items like “Marshall Loeb’s Daily Money Tip.”

Such informational articles are very helpful. They help me disregard my house chores.

Dialing for coffee

The scene: Early summer morning. One spouse is at home, surrounded by all the modern communications gear a man could want. The other spouse is out running errands, and she has a cell phone in her purse.

The husband, sweaty in his workout duds, comes in from the three-car oven where the family keeps its fancy treadmill/torture machine.

The coffee pot is nearly empty, and he goes to make another pot and, oh my Lord, there’s no coffee. How did this happen? There’s always extra coffee stashed around the house. But a quick search turns up nothing. Out of coffee. That’s all there is to it.

No problem. He’ll simply use his modern communications equipment to contact his wife, who can make a quick stop by the market on her way home. He can exist without coffee until she gets here, and he won’t have to actually get dressed.

He dials, but gets voicemail. He leaves a message: “Hi, hon. It’s me. We’re out of coffee. Can you pick some up while you’re out? Thanks.”

OK, he thinks, she left the phone in the car. No big deal. She’ll get the message. He’ll get coffee. Eventually.

But what if she doesn’t get the message? Maybe she’ll forget to check. She’ll come all the way home, and have to go right back out again. Or, worse, he’ll have to go.

Through the miracle of redial, he calls every few minutes, hoping to catch her at that magic moment when she’s actually in the supermarket. He leaves a message each time so she won’t think all the hang-ups are some sort of emergency signal that means he’s fallen off a ladder.

“Hi, hon. Hope you got my message. About the coffee. Call and let me know.”

“Me again. Just trying to catch you near the phone. About the coffee.”

“Houston, we’ve got a problem. We’re outta coffee up here. Not enough for even one pot. Please acknowledge.”

“Breaker, breaker, good buddy. We’ve got an emergency situation here. Come back. With coffee.”

“Stardate 070822. The Enterprise has … been … stricken. No … coffee. Gasp.”

“Hey, hon? This isn’t funny anymore. About the coffee? Call and let me know you got these messages. I’m down to the dregs here. I’ll put on shoes and go to the store if I have to, but since you’re already out and about and (beep)--”

“Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale. A tale of a fateful trip. They started out without coffee, and they never got a sip. They never got a sip.”

“Mayday, mayday. We’re going down. No coffee. Emergency measures taken. Drinking old decaf from last Christmas that I found in the back of the cabinet. Wish me luck. Over.”

“Houston, do you copy? It’s not working. I repeat, it’s not working. Decaf not enough to combat effects of hangover. Slipping out of consciousness. Must … lie … down.”

“Ground Control to Major Tom.”

Finally, she answers, of course, and she’s in the checkout line, coffee in hand. The miracle of modern telecommunications saves the day.

But you should see our phone bill.

What your home office needs

We spend a big chunk of our lives working, so it’s no wonder we pay so much attention to decorating and equipping our workspaces.

Visit any cubicle in America, and you’ll find all sorts of gizmos and gimcracks and souvenir snowglobes and clipped cartoons aimed at giving the place some personality. We want to claim the space, make it our own, and if that means thumb-tacking “Garfield” to the walls, then so be it. (Not the cartoons. I mean the actual cat. But that’s just me.)

Manufacturers and merchants have recognized this drive to personalize our office spaces and have responded with tons of products aimed as separating us from the hard-earned dollars we make in those cubicles. The products get more outlandish and high-tech all the time.

A website called Switched.com recently collected some of the latest in a list called “10 Ultimate Cubicle Gadgets.” It’s a wacky list, ranging from a handheld air-conditioner to a high-tech cubicle makeover that costs more than $10,000.

Some items appeal to the inner nerd: a palm-sized polygraph, a device that signals when the worker is displaying poor desk posture, a fingerprint reader for password protection, and a washable, flexible computer keyboard.

Other items included a fancy lamp, a mini-fridge that holds one can of soda, and a round video phone that sits on squat legs, looking very much like the upraised back end of a dog.

These products look like a lot of fun, and I’m sure your cubicle would be a better place if you installed them. But the collection doesn’t address the millions of people who work in home offices, where the needs are more basic and there’s no boss to say what’s inappropriate.

Here are some gadgets you need in your home office:

--A thermal mug, which will reduce the number of times you must run to the kitchen for more coffee. A mug with a lid can prevent expensive spills into the computer.

--A set of screwdrivers. For making adjustments to your ancient swivel chair, repairing your eyeglasses or opening up your computer tower, so you can do some real damage to what’s inside.

--Duct tape has a thousand uses, including emergency hair removal and securing the occasional splint.

--Nail clippers. With no co-workers around, you can do your personal grooming right at your desk. Avoid letting the flying shards land in your keyboard.

--A lobster bib. We work-at-home types tend to eat at our desks.

--A threadbare bathrobe, for pulling on in a hurry when the FedEx driver rings the doorbell.

--A yo-yo, paddle-ball or other time-wasting toy. Because nobody’s watching.

--Earplugs, for those times when children are in the house.

--Solitaire, Tetris or other computer games. Everybody needs to take a break occasionally, right? Even if those “breaks” last for hours . . .

--A calendar and/or to-do list. You need organization and goal-setting in a home office. Otherwise, you waste all day watching old episodes of “The Munsters.”

--A box of tissues. Using your sleeve is gross, even if no one’s watching.

--Notepads, for doodling.

--A music delivery system of some sort, in case you feel like dancing.

--A sharp knife for opening packages. Also handy for slitting your wrists when you realize you’ve missed yet another deadline.

Finally, the most important device of all. Your home office needs a door so can shut out your family and the rest of the world.

You don’t want them to see you clipping your toenails.

Another year, another beer

The start of a new year is the perfect time to organize your home office (or even your cubicle in a regular office).

It's time to discard old calendars, and replace them with shiny new ones filled with blank pages. Time to "strip" old files. Time to clean off your desk, down to the naked wood. Yes, it's truly a time of "out with the old and in with the nude."

Many workers let this opportunity slip by because they're too daunted by their messy offices to even attempt such a clean-up. These same people find themselves pawing through garbage bags in search of receipts on April 15.

How to tackle such a big job? It's a matter of sorting files and arranging folders and stacking up those unfinished projects you lost six months ago. Here's what you need to get started:

--Boxes. Use those left over from Christmas. They're probably in the garage.
--File folders. Get nice, new folders. They're cheap.
--Large envelopes. Ditto.
--Extra-large trash bags. Preferably clear ones. You may be hunting something in the bottom of one later.
--Stapler, paper clips, rubber bands, etc.
--Beer.

Assemble these items in your office, roll up your sleeves and get to work.

(If your office has a door that locks, you should lock yourself inside. This will prevent those inevitable interruptions and provide a barrier to distractions, such as the fridge and ESPN. Also, you don't want your family or co-workers to see you like this -- sweaty, frantic and confused.)

Label the boxes and envelopes in a way that makes sense to you. For example, you might have envelopes labeled "IRS" or "Receipts." You can label file folders by the names of your clients, or by date, or alphabetically. If you're in a home office, you might have extra folders labeled "Bills" or "Lost Stuff" or "Kids' Homework???"

Once you get everything labeled, you should brace yourself with several beers, because it's time to start sorting.

Begin with your desktop. Desks are junk magnets, and the top of your desk is buried in stuff you don't need. Yes, it is.

Go through these items and sort them into envelopes, boxes, trash bags, etc. A good rule of thumb: If you haven't referred to a piece of paper in six months, then it's time to throw it out.

If you don't recognize an item, then it's also a good candidate for the trash. It probably belongs to somebody else in your office/household, and tough luck to them.

As you put items away, the landfill level will lower and you'll unearth other items that you didn't even know were there, such as your phone. File these away, too. (Though you might want to keep the phone in plain sight.)

After you've cleaned off your desktop, pause to reconsider your sorting plan. Do you need other categories, such as "Overdue Work" or "Overdue Bills" or "Whoops!" or "Mystery Folders"? Create these new categories and make sure you have plenty of room in the existing envelopes/folders/boxes, because your desk drawers and file cabinets come next. Drink several more beers.

Go through each drawer, throwing out old papers and arranging ones you need to retain. Be merciless. Don't keep anything you don't absolutely need. Otherwise, you'll be looking at these same papers next year, and they'll make even less sense then.

Drink more beer.

By the time you're done, you should be drunk and sweaty and perhaps naked. But there's still one more job to do: Cart off the boxes and garbage bags. Put them in the garage or basement or other storage area.

Make sure it's someplace convenient because you'll be looking through them again. On April 15.

Another dumb list

I read an article recently called "Dumb Money Moves People Make," which listed stupid things you can do to wreck your home finances.

Most of the "dumb moves" centered on being careless with personal identification numbers or other financial information, leaving one susceptible to identity theft. Very good advice, but that wasn't what grabbed me.

As a writer, I was more interested in the way the article was put together. "Dumb Money Moves" is a pretty catchy way to get the reader's attention, and most people love lists. It's a construction you see all the time:

"Top 10 Dieting Mistakes"
"Twelve Ways Smart Women Sabotage Relationships"
"The 15 Worst Mistakes You Can Make on the Job"
"Twenty Errors to Avoid When Invading a Country in the Middle East"
"Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover"
"Eighty-Seven Stupid Things Guys Say in Bars"

Such lists appeal because they allow us to laugh at the foibles of others while secretly checking our own behavior to see whether we've made any "dumb moves" lately.

Never one to pass up an easy format, I decided to write my own list, pegged to my usual territory: housework and home repairs and working from a home office.

Here, then, are the:

TOP 20 DUMB MOVES YOU CAN MAKE AROUND THE HOUSE

1. Try to "do it yourself," particularly if the job involves electric current and/or power tools. Before you know it, you'll have fewer digits than when you started and/or a hairdo like boxing promoter Don King.

2. Play with fire. Yes, fire is warm and pretty, but one minor slip near the drapes and -- poof! -- you're homeless.

3. Adjust the TV antenna or satellite dish during a lightning storm. Better reception soon will be the least of your worries.

4. Start the wrong kind of home-based business. Some pursuits -- fish storage, fireworks assembly, telemarketing -- are too hazardous for the home, and may violate zoning laws.

5. Any chore involving ladders.

6. Invite over friends who knew you before you were married and who want to regale your spouse with "fun" stories about your wild and crazy dating days. (See "Play with fire" above.)

7. Gullibly believe decorating magazines when they say home improvement projects are "easy" or "fast" or "cheap."

8. Phone sex. Your spouse will find those credit-card bills. Guaranteed.

9. Plant a "cash crop" in your back yard. Your neighbors will rat you out to the proper authorities.

10. Ignore the warnings on powerful cleaning products. Skip the rubber gloves, and your friends soon will call you "Lobster Boy."

11. Allow teen-age boys to live under your roof. The only faster way to bring down property values is to house a randy tomcat.

12. Two words: Indoor trampoline.

13. Carefully file each and every piece of paper in your home office. That's just asking for a tornado.

14. Take out a home equity loan to pay for luxuries or vacations. That little gift to yourself will turn out to be the "gift that keeps on giving" for the next 30 years.

15. Answer the phone when you're in the middle of an argument with your spouse.

16. Answer the door to accept delivery of a subpoena.

17. Answer the door in your underwear.

18. Mow the lawn in your underwear.

19. Run over metal sprinkler heads with the lawn mower. Trust me on this.

20. Start a home business as a "writer."

Am I retired yet?

Count on the Baby Boom generation to blur the lines between "work" and "retirement."

Previous generations knew what "retired" meant. You hit 65, and you stopped going to work every day and you stayed home and pruned the roses and drove your spouse crazy. Occasionally, you went on cruises where you overate and got sunburned and drove your spouse crazy.

What you didn't do, as a retiree, was work. It was really the only requirement for membership.

But, no, the Baby Boomers can't have that. Our overworked generation can't just slip the bit and go off to pasture. Surveys find that the majority of Boomers expect to work after they retire.

Sure, that's partly about financial necessity and the fact that many of us invest our retirement savings in undergraduate tuition for ingrates who change their majors four times, but money's only part of the story. Many Boomers say they want to work in retirement, so they can stay "active" and in touch with their community, two things I personally try to avoid.

If you keep working, how can you tell when you retired? Maybe you just changed jobs.

Boomers want to retire from their current hated career, whatever it might be, and take up something altogether different and more wonderful, a vocation that allows flexibility and a home office and plenty of free time to be "active" and stuff. They want to set their own schedules, and not have somebody breathing down their collective necks. It's not the work they want to retire from. It's the boss.

Boomers aren't thinking six-hour stretches on their feet as Wal-Mart greeters, displaying their dentures all day. No, they want a second career that's arty and cool. Something they can do over the Internet, or by turning a beloved hobby into a moneymaker. Maybe something exciting and risky, like online poker or day trading or writing novels.

(Here's what we're all secretly thinking: I'll probably spend my retirement sitting at a computer in my pajamas anyway, playing games and reading blogs, why not find a way to get paid?)

We self-employed types with home offices have pioneered this lifestyle. Sure, we work hard, but only when we must, and the rest of the time we behave like retirees. We take advantage of nice weather and avoid rush hour traffic and futz around the yard. We don't sweat deadlines so much. If we run out of time, we can always work during the hours when any sane person is asleep.

We putter around the house, or go out with friends for long lunches or the flogging of innocent golf balls. We run errands during the workday, when retirees own the roads, and it's a good thing we're in no hurry. Like retirees, we tend to eat at strange hours -- at brunch, for instance, or during the Sunset Special. And, like retirees, we wait anxiously by the mailbox when we're expecting a paycheck.

If you want to know more about starting a "retirement career" in your golden years, just ask us, your experienced home-office professionals. We're here to help.

File under "H" for "Hopeless"

Every business needs a filing system, but efficient filing is particularly vital for those of us who work in home offices.

When you work at home, you must be able to retrieve information without a lot of wasted time and effort. Every minute counts. And, if you work alone, then you have no one else to blame when stuff goes missing.

A proper filing system not only keeps data handy, it also serves as a "track record" of your home-based business, from its optimistic launch to its eventual, unsurprising demise. Use file labels that are easy to change so you can chart the bathtub-drain geometry of this downward spiral.

The best way to keep your files organized is to utilize a simple alphabetical system. Here are some suggestions for labeling the folder tabs:

Assets -- Usually a very slim file.

Business Cards -- Collect these from everyone you meet while "networking." They make dandy toothpicks. "B" also stands for "Bankruptcy," but that comes later.

Computer -- Outdated manuals, voided warranties and backup disks kept in a folder stained with tears.

Debts -- This file can grow so large it needs its own drawer.

Expenses -- Everything the IRS might ever allow you to deduct, up to and including psychiatric treatment.

Financial Plan -- Typically an empty folder.

Goals -- Can also be labeled "Goose Chases." Or, "Grasping at Straws."

Health -- Leave extra room for medical bills, etc. This file tends to grow as stress increases.

Investments -- Or, "Idiotic Decisions."

Junk -- A catch-all, the last stop before the "round file."

Keepsakes -- Awards, letters from satisfied clients, mementos of the good times. Thumb through this file whenever you're severely depressed.

Leases -- Folder makes a giant sucking sound whenever it's opened.

Marketing Plan -- See "Wishful Thinking"

Newsletters -- These make good kindling.

Out of Date -- The letter "O" can also stand for "Overdue" or "Overly Optimistic."

Profits -- Hahahahaha.

Quacks -- See "Health."

Resumes -- It's smart to keep these handy and updated. You could be looking for a "real job" any minute now.

Supplies -- "S" could stand for "Successes" or "Satisfaction," but "Supplies" are a sure thing.

Taxes -- File should contain two business cards: One for accountant, one for bail bondsman.

Upcoming -- Not a reference to your lunch, but to pending events. Easy to change this one to "Useless" or "Unemployment Benefits."

Vehicle -- Leave room for a fat file because it will be a long time before you can replace your old beater.

Wishful Thinking -- Scratch out label and replace with "What Was I Thinking." Then "Wasted Life." Then "Whiskey."

"X" -- You never need this folder unless you go into xylophone sales, so it can be used as a place to hide overdue bills from your spouse.

Youth -- Also see "M" for "Misspent" or "L" for "Lost."

Zippo -- Contains the lighter you'll need to set your filing system ablaze.

By the numbers

Many of us who work at home feel we must constantly prove our worth, especially to our spouses who have real jobs.

On a rational level, we know our spouses appreciate the work we do around the house and the daily struggle of our home-based careers and the importance of having a parent home with the kids. But there's a deeper emotional need to make them believe we're working really, really hard here at home and not goofing off all day, as some might suspect.

A simple question in the evening -- "How was your day?" -- stirs a regular corporate report from us work-at-home types. We reel off the numbers: clients served, phone calls made, miles driven, hours spent on chores, etc.

Surely, this isn't what the spouse wants to hear, but we feel compelled to recite these dry business statistics, just to prove we didn't spend the day watching reruns of "The Newlywed Game."

Wouldn't it be easier if we had a standard Daily Progress Report? We could fill in a few blanks, then just hand it over when the spouse arrives home. That would get all the numbers out of the way, clearing the evening for in-depth discussions of other matters, such as what to watch on TV.

Here's a sample of such a report. Feel free to make copies for your own use.

DAILY PROGRESS REPORT

It's been yet another productive day here at corporate headquarters. For the benefit of spouses and other shareholders, we've compiled the following executive summary to show where this household's been and where it's going.

Earnings: Actual earnings from the home-based business were ___ today. However, future earnings look good because ___ clients promised "the check is in the mail."

Debts: New debts accrued today were ___. We had a one-time writeoff against income of ___ because of (circle one or more) medical/dental/plumbing/automotive emergencies. Also, we had the regular business expense of ___ for groceries to feed these damn kids.

Productivity/Corporate: In a very busy day, we here at headquarters made ___ important business calls, signed ___ new contracts, spent ___ hours on developing new projects and ___ hours on ongoing projects. On the down side, ___ hours were wasted playing computer games.

Productivity/Household: The following chores were completed: ___ loads of laundry, ___ meals prepared, ___ rooms cleaned, ___ toilets scrubbed, ___ hours of lawn care, and ___ miles driven. More would've been accomplished in this sector, but the children demanded ___ hours of attention.

Performance of future assets: Today, ___ of our children were expelled or suspended from school, ___ misbehaved and ___ refused to help around the house. It may be time for the shareholders to face down this challenge with a united front, before the children launch a hostile takeover bid. On the plus side, ___ children achieved Honor Roll or similar accomplishment. See addendum.

Growth potential: It's difficult to see into the future, but we believe there's room for growth, both on the corporate and household fronts. For the home-based business, there's nowhere to go but up! As for the household balance sheet, please remember: It is only ___ years until the children move away, taking with them a large drain on our resources. By then, we will have ___ years until age 65, so we'll need to save ___ per year to compile enough assets for a retirement that doesn't center on cat food. Which means we'd better see some growth. In a hurry.

Immediate projections: We here at headquarters feel confident that tomorrow will be a better day, with an increase in earnings and an overall rise in productivity.

And we'll have the numbers to prove it.

Bulldozer blues

You might assume that one advantage of working at home would be the peace and quiet that comes from having no blustery bosses or loud machinery or gossiping coworkers nearby.

Not so. Even the best-equipped home office can be surrounded by noise and distraction.

I was constantly reminded of this after we moved into our current subdivision. My office may be the house's one quiet refuge -- particularly when the children are home -- but the neighborhood itself was a construction zone.

All day, I was serenaded by the roar of heavy equipment and the woodpecker-chatter of hammers and the beep-beep-beep of trucks backing up.

The large, arched window in my home office seemed one of the new house's best attractions, easy access to long hours of staring outside and goofing off. But the window provides no barricade to the construction noise. Instead, it seems to funnel every grumble and beep straight into my brain.

I should've known it would be this way. When we bought this house, it was clear that several surrounding homes weren't finished yet. Plus, the subdivision is called Bulldozer Heights, which ought to have been a clue.

Not that the new neighborhood should be any different from anywhere else I've ever lived. I was born in the peak year of the Baby Boom, which means I've been hammered by construction noise my whole life as facilities were built or enlarged to accommodate the population bulge.

Every school I attended was in the process of being expanded to cope with the growing number of students. One whole year of high school was spent with a three-story-high piledriver whanging away outside my classroom windows. No wonder I never mastered algebra.

While students at other colleges amused themselves with Frisbees and beer busts, the main activity at my university was dodging front-end loaders.

Every office where I've ever worked -- except one -- was filled with the plaster dust and smelly paint and jackhammer noise of constant renovation.

(The one office that was finished by the time I arrived was a strictly regimented world with dozens of rules aimed at preserving the new carpet from spills. Since the new carpet stank like, well, like new carpet, it was all I could do not to deliberately pour coffee all over my cubicle.)

Each apartment or house where I've lived -- even ones in established neighborhoods -- was the scene of construction or reconstruction or renovation. If all the buildings in the area were finished, then I could count on city workers to come by and start tearing up the streets. Crash, crunch, beep, beep, beep.

Yes, I blame this lifetime of noise on being part of the most populous generation. More people has meant steady construction to make room for all of us. That construction has meant noise. And that, my friends, is the real reason they call it the Baby BOOM.

Alas, you can't stand in the way of progress. Well, you can, but if you hear a beep-beep-beep, you might want to run the other direction.

Someday, all the construction noise will grind to a halt, both nationwide and here in the neighborhood. Smaller succeeding generations mean we'll eventually have all the houses and other buildings we need.

Then, no doubt, it'll be time to tear up the streets.

Scams and frauds and cons, oh my

If you believe the advertising, work-at-home opportunities are everywhere.

E-mail boxes fill up daily with "spam" ads for home-based careers. Classified ads for "business opportunities" often boast that the businesses can be run from home. Nearly every utility pole on every street, it seems, sports an ad: "Earn $100's Every Week, Working at Home!"

Many of these pitches, sad to say, are simply fraud. They prey on working parents who'd like to stay home all day with the kids, but still make something approaching an income. These scams, experts say, often require the victim to lay out hundreds, even thousands, of dollars as an "initial investment" or for "equipment costs," and then provide no way to recover that money.

Take, for example, one of the oldest swindles -- stuffing envelopes. The only way to "Earn $100's Every Week" stuffing envelopes is if you stuff them with heroin.

It's a shame that so many people fall for these con games, though it's hard to see what the victims expect from any industry where the primary form of advertising is flyers pasted on telephone poles.

However, for people who are creative and industrious, there are "legitimate" ways to make money at home. Let's look at some of these careers, and the special skills and talents they require:

--Telemarketing. Sick of sales pitches during the dinner hour? Then you should look into telemarketing. In this field, you can be the one interrupting other people's dinner! Special skill required: Access to a phone.

--E-bay and other online auction houses. You can make money by selling the junk out of your garage! Once you run out of junk, you can start "borrowing" stuff from your neighbors' garages. Removing garage clutter can be considered a public service! Special talent required: Stealth.

--Selling vitamins and other health products. Americans, particularly Baby Boomers, are obsessed with their health, so this is a hot sales arena. Special requirement for this career: A healthy glow. Customers won't trust your claims if you look sickly.

--Selling beauty products. Not for the naturally ugly. See above.

--Retirement consultant. Guide customers through the tricky thickets of the thrill-ride stock market, slumping 401(k)'s and other investments. Win or lose, you get your commission! Special talent required: Boundless optimism.

--Computer consultant. With a computer on every desk in America, this is a field that just keeps growing! Many people still are not comfortable working with computers, and you can use this discomfort by constantly warning them of viruses, worms and other electronic plagues. If that doesn't work, you can always develop a virus that only you can fix. Talk about a captive audience! Some actual computer skills required.

--Market research and political polling. See "Telemarketing" above.

--Phone sex. Fleece the twisted and lonely! Necessary talent: Must be capable of keeping boredom out of your voice as you say, "Ooh, baby, baby," 179 times a day.

--Psychic hotlines. Thousands of people pay good money every day to consult by phone with seers who can describe the future. No skills required, beyond a healthy imagination. Anyone gullible enough to trust in psychics will believe whatever you tell them.

--Writing books and articles. Forget this one. There's no money in it. Special talent required: Masochism.

--Spam-oriented businesses. Someone, somewhere, is making money from all those e-mail ads offering to refinance your mortgage, shrink/enlarge particular portions of your anatomy or show you the "hottest porn on the Internet." Why shouldn't that someone be you? Special skills: Basic computer skills and the surgical removal of your conscience.

--Brokering business opportunities. You can help others "Earn $100's Every Week" from home-based businesses. They do the work, and you make money from their "initial investments!" Special requirement: Must have a flexible schedule that allows for jail time.

Utility player

Before you call to inquire: Yes, my refrigerator is running.

So is my deep-freeze and my dishwasher and the washer-and-dryer. The furnace roars. The computer fan whirs. Somewhere, a toilet is mysteriously running. That infernal fluorescent light in the kitchen is buzzing again. And I can't get any work done.

With the kids safely imprisoned in school, the home office should be quiet as a tomb. But no, the child-free home turns out to be a lively place, a regular disco full of sounds and smells and lights left on in empty rooms.

I carefully schedule my home-office time to coincide with the hours when my two sons are safely in school. I need absolute quiet when I'm working, and there's no chance of that happening if my children are anywhere within three city blocks of my desk.

In the sudden silence, background noise steps boldly to the foreground.

An example: Various heaters in our house are going around the clock, preserving that greenhouse effect that keeps my wife's plants thriving and the rest of us in "tropical wear." The constant growl of the burners becomes like static over a phone line. We talk over it. We turn up the TV a notch. Pretty soon, we don't even notice the heaters.

But when I sit at my desk and try to wrap myself in silent concentration, the heaters boom like endless thunder. I notice one is making a ticking noise, and I start to worry. I jump up and go examine the heater for any sign of flame or smoke or other malfunction. (It's a given that I know absolutely nothing about how heaters work, but I'm compelled to go check.)

This is how I spend my work-day -- playing "What's That Noise?" Jumping up and running around the house, then returning to my desk with no idea what I was doing originally.

Partly, this is because we've made so many plumbing/furnace/flood repairs to our old house over the years. I always expect the worst when the place makes an unfamiliar creak. Partly, it's because I'm so focused on the quiet, that every noise-- no matter how inobtrusive -- feels like a jolt to my brain.

We recently added to the household din by purchasing a half-size deep-freeze, mostly to store the annual harvest of roasted green chile.

(I'd love to tell you how my wife saved the delivery fee by driving the new freezer home herself -- the huge box jutting from the back seat of her top-down convertible -- but there isn't room here, and you wouldn't believe it anyway.)

The deep-freeze runs just as quiet as any other modern major appliance, which is to say just loud enough to penetrate your subconscious, even when you're at the far end of the house.

My problem: The new freezer has a nervous, high-pitched motor, which sounds like water singing in the pipes. Since it's parked near a bathroom, I trek to that end of the house, oh, 37 times a day to see if someone left the water running or if that long-balky toilet has finally run amok. What I find is the freezer, whining along, doing its job.

The freezer shares a room with the washer and dryer. Our regular refrigerator is right around the corner. When they all get going at once, it's a regular symphony of hissing water and tumbling jeans and humming compressors and the ka-chunk of the icemaker. Listen closely, and you can practically hear the electricity being sucked from the grid by those huddled appliances, a portent of whopping electric bills to come. And that, folks, is why they call it the "utility room."

The music of the appliances eventually starts sounding like the ringing of a cash register at the power company. All that money constantly flowing out of the house, so the house in turn can make enough noise to drive me crazy.

The sounds should be an impetus for me to get busy and make some new money. And I will, just as soon as I can get some quiet around here.

Room to grow

The latest "hot trend' in home design reflects perfectly our modern, pell-mell, multi-tasking, cell-phone-gabbing way of life.

Look at home magazines and real estate ads and you'll see how designers now construct every room with three or four uses in mind. For example, a kitchen will also be a laundry and an office and a hobby center and a conversation pit built around a fireplace. And there'll be a TV hidden in the cabinetry.

These ingenious designs make use of every square foot of space in the house by using the latest technology: stoves that are also refrigerators, washing machines that are also dryers, microwave ovens that are also X-ray machines, beds that fold into walls, desks with built-in bars. Every nook and cranny of every floor plan these days is crammed with a computer station and a telephone.

Such designs allow us to do many things at once, which is the way we live. We work in bed and eat in the den and phone from the kitchen and sleep in the office. And everyone else in the family is running around like crazy, trying to do everything at once, too. This is why, when you call your friends, you can always hear in the background a TV yapping and a toilet flushing and something sizzling on the stove.

Most of us don't live in houses specially designed with multiple uses in mind. Older homes have your standard arrangement of rooms and cabinets and electrical sockets, so we have to furnish and shape these rooms to fit our needs. This is how reclining chairs end up in breakfast nooks and toy boxes get tucked into bathroom corners. It's why the accent piece in every room is a tangle of gray computer cables.

Traffic patterns, comfort preferences and time conflicts dictate where people congregate and where we put our stuff and where we find quiet nooks where we can avoid the rest of the family. And that requires using rooms in ways that weren't intended.

Hasn't the kitchen always doubled as meeting hall? Whenever you host a party, doesn't everyone gather in the kitchen, noshing and yakking and leaning on counters and resting their elbows in sticky, days-old spills?

At our house, the laundry room doubles as an entrance, the living room has a desk in one end and a piano in the other, the foyer acts as closet space. The master bedroom is essentially a book-jammed library with a bed in it. The kids' rooms are toy storage facilities/disaster areas.
Then there's the "great room." This oversized room combines dining room, den, my home office, sunroom, gym and entertainment district into one cluttered, multi-use, feng-shui-free zone.
The room has big windows with a southern exposure, which means that this time of year, it also becomes a greenhouse. My wife likes houseplants, so there's always several flowering on the window sills. But this summer we fixed up our patio -- another Southwestern necessity -- and she went a little overboard at the nursery, until you couldn't see the patio for the trees.

When nights started getting cold, many of these plants needed to come indoors, so naturally she put them all in the sunniest room. My office/den/dining room now overflows with flora. The room currently has 29 plants, ranging from three inches to eight feet tall.

I'm not complaining. The plants are beautiful and she's arranged them nicely and they're pumping oxygen into our cooped-up indoor air. But they're crowding me a little.

My wife may have a green thumb, but I don't. I'm afraid to get near houseplants. Past experience has taught that if I water, move, touch or breathe on them, they'll expire within minutes. If I look at one too hard, it's the kiss of death.

With so many plants and potted trees around, I must skirt them when I walk and avoid them when I choose a place to sit and avert my eyes if one of them notices me. Because of this constant evasion, I move around the room like a nervous geek trying to do the samba.

And why shouldn't I be nervous? It's a jungle in here.

(Editor's note: In our current home, we have an actual office, separate from every other use. It's full of plants.)

Don't touch that desk

I once worked with a persnickety bachelor who began each shift by hosing down his entire desk with Lysol and briskly scrubbing away all the unseen viruses and germs there.

We co-workers secretly made fun of him, cracking jokes about Felix Unger and the biological warfare of intentionally sneezing on his phone, but a recent news item shows he was right -- your desk is a veritable laboratory of sneaky bacteria.

A study by researchers at the University of Arizona found that the standard office desk has 400 times more bacteria than the average toilet seat.

The study said the worst places for bacteria were telephones, desktops and keyboards, which are the only parts of the standard office desk that get much use. Apparently, the only relatively safe place is the inside of your desk drawers, and it's hard to get any work done in there because the lighting is inadequate.

This study raises a number of questions:

1) Where did I put the Lysol?

2) Would it be safer to work in the bathroom?

3) Does the Occupational Safety and Health Administration know about this?

4) Which toilet seat was used as the benchmark for the study? And did that household include young boys who have difficulty with the concept of "aiming?"

5) What kind of scientist spends his time measuring bacteria on desks and toilets? And was the study federally funded?

6) Is there some way to blame the bacteria on Saddam Hussein?

I have no answers to these questions because I learned of the study in in a magazine called "Fast Company," and the one-paragraph article was short on details. "Fast Company," for those of you who've never seen it, is a hip business magazine for people who are too busy to read. It's aimed at those striving executives who have cell phones permanently glued to their ears and who take their laptops to church. Articles in the magazines tend to rely heavily on quotes from millionaire CEOs. The design is so splashy it's difficult to tell the articles from the advertisements.

Why, you may ask yourself, was a housebound writer type like me, someone whose idea of a hectic business day includes liberal doses of computer Solitaire, reading "Fast Company?" Well, it was in the bathroom at our house.

Magazines tend to congregate in bathrooms, and at our house the bathrooms are regular periodical libraries, where there's always something to read, no matter how brief the stay. In the bathroom -- where, let's face it, I'm a captive audience -- I'll read most anything, including the "Old Farmer's Almanac" and the kids' "Mad" magazines. No doubt all these magazines are infested with bacteria.

Anyway, occasionally I see something in these accumulated magazines that applies to our workaday world, and this bacteria study sure made me sit up (as it were) and take notice. A desk has 400 times more bacteria than a toilet seat? It's a wonder we don't all keel over dead every time we check our e-mail.

The results of the study should come as no surprise, I suppose. Even the worst housekeepers must clean the toilet every week or two, or the place starts to smell like the restroom at the bus station. Desks, on the other hand, can be cleaned less frequently, such as, oh, never.

Most desks are buried under files and calendars and power cords and reference works and Post-It notes and "Dilbert" cartoons. This clutter makes an ideal habitat for bacteria, who take to it like snakes to a woodpile. To clean your desk properly, you'd have to move all that stuff and scrub everything down and then put all the stuff back. And who has time for that?

Even if you're a neat freak who keeps all clutter hidden away, the type who can actually see your desktop, I'll bet you don't regularly police the area for bacteria. And, if you did, how could you tell when you'd successfully rid your desk of this invisible menace? You'd need a researcher in a hazmat suit to stop by and measure.

While he's there, have him check the toilet seats. And all the magazines.

April fooled

This morning, my wife and I are in the home office we share when she says: "Did you know 'gullible' is the only common word that's not in the dictionary?"

I say, "That can't be right," and yank a dictionary off the shelf and flip pages and of course the word is right where it belongs.

"Here it is!" I cry, and I start reading the definitions aloud and get through "easily duped" before I remember that today is April 1.

I expect her to stop laughing by midnight.

Mighty mouse addiction

Among the many new, high-tech words included in recent editions of the New Oxford Dictionary of English is a listing for "mouse potato."

While this sounds like an exotic dish (perhaps one they enjoy in England), this term actually refers to someone who spends too much time sitting zoned in front of a computer, akin to the TV addicts known as "couch potatoes" or "sofa spuds." (Which also sounds like something they'd eat in England.)

It's easy to make light of mouse potatoes, but the levity disguises a serious social ill.

Recent studies show that mouse potatoes -- even if they do not consume British food -- generally are an unhealthy lot, spending too much time sedentary and alone. They suffer from carpal tunnel syndrome and poor posture and overlooked hygiene. They tend to be "quiet types, who always keep to themselves," and we all know what that means.

So today, for the safety of yourself and others, let's take an in-depth look at "Mouse Potato Syndrome" or MPS. This diagnosis is so new that many health experts have yet to recognize it, and the general public hasn't been properly informed of the symptoms. You, yourself, may currently be a mouse potato and not even know it.

If you think you might suffer from MPS, answer these questions:

--Do you spend more than 14 hours a day sitting at a computer? On Sundays?

--Do you suffer from sore wrists, headaches, neck pain, numbness, irregularity, back pain, sciatica, insomnia, nausea, trivia or ennui?

--Do you know, off the top of your head, your current winning percentage at "Free Cell?"

--Do you resent sleeping because it cuts into your time online?

--Do your "virtual" friends outnumber your "actual" friends? Do you have "imaginary" friends? What are their names?

--Are there crumbs in your computer keyboard? Enough, taken together, to shape into a coffee cake?

--Do you have trouble remembering your spouse's name?

If you answer "yes" to any of these questions, then you might be a mouse potato. Take precautionary measures. Get up, right now, and go outside. Even it's raining or pitch dark. Just go. Fresh air is the only known palliative for Mouse Potato Syndrome. Yes, it's a temporary remedy, but there's no limit on the doses you can take. The more, the better.

Sadly, many Americans know MPS all too well because of the toll it takes on their families. MPS, like any addiction, results in domestic turmoil and alienation of affection. Spouses report they lose all contact with their mouse potato husbands or wives, who are trapped in a "virtual" world of instant stock quotes, pirated music and hourly reports on the love life of Britney Spears. And untold families have felt the shock of losing a child to "Myst."

Many people who aren't computer-addicted become infected by living in the same house as a mouse potato. They're seduced by talk of chatrooms and e-Bay and free downloads. They start to experiment with the Web. Before you know it, the whole family is twitching and sniffling and bickering over who gets the DSL connection next.

Often, the spouses of MPS victims become "enablers," protecting their mouse potatoes from the outside world, "covering" for them, providing for their care and feeding. For some, living with an infestation of mouse potatoes can be cheaper than eradicating it, particularly in cases involving pre-nuptial agreements.

If you're living with a mouse potato, you don't have to suffer in silence. You can stand up. You can force your mouse potato to return blinking to the real world, even if it means taking drastic steps such as cutting electric power to the house.

Remember, you're not alone. If someone you know suffers from Mouse Potato Syndrome, seek help from family, friends, neighbors and medical professionals. (It may take two or three full-grown adults to pry a truly addicted mouse potato away from his computer and drag him outdoors.)

And if you think you may be a mouse potato, know that the condition doesn't have to be permanent. All it takes is will power. You can take back your life.

Just go outside. It helps if you can bring along a laptop.