By Mike Pound
I need a lock on my office door.
When I started working from home more, my wife decided to turn our guest bedroom into an office. My wife thought it would be good for both of us to have an office to work in when we were home.
Me: “Both of us?”
Wife: “We can work side by side. Won’t that be fun?”
Me: (Long pause.)
Wife: “I said, ‘Won’t that be fun?’”
Me: (Longer pause.) “Oh, look at the time. I need to get to bed.”
Thankfully, my wife hasn’t needed to use her side of the office at the same time I am using my side of the office — so far.
But at some point it will happen, and then I will have to make a decision: Do I throw myself out of the office window right away, or do I wait until my wife says “See, isn’t this fun?” and then throw myself out of the window?
It will be a tough decision.
On Thursday, my wife and our 15-year-old daughter, Emma, got what they have been wanting for two years: a snow day.
They spent some anxious hours Wednesday night waiting for it to start snowing or sleeting or icing or whatever it did. By the time they both went to sleep Wednesday night, it was unclear if it would snow, sleet or ice enough for my wife’s work and Emma’s school to be canceled.
Sometime after 5 a.m. Thursday, my wife woke me up to tell me that her work and Emma’s school had been canceled.
“You woke me up to tell me that?” I asked.
“Yes,” my wife said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Too let you know you didn’t have to get up early,” my wife said.
“But it’s early, and I’m up,” I said.
By that time, my wife was back asleep, and I was trying to figure out whether I liked the idea that my wife and Emma would be spending the day at home with me.
I decided I didn’t.
At 9 a.m., I told my wife that I was going upstairs to “my” office to work. At 10 a.m., my wife came into “our” office and found me playing solitaire on my computer.
“You’re working hard,” she said.
“This is how I think,” I said.
“I think that red four should go on that black five,” my wife said, and then she shut “my” office door and went back downstairs.
At about 1 p.m., Katie, from across the street, came over to hang out with Emma. Earlier in the day, Emma brought Shilo, our German shepherd, into “my” office.
“Katie’s coming over. Don’t embarrass me,” Emma said.
Emma and Katie spent an hour in Emma’s room laughing pretty much nonstop. I don’t know what Katie and Emma were laughing about, and I probably don’t want to know. I just know that I could hear them laughing.
A few minutes ago, I heard my wife yell something up to Emma. Then Emma opened the door to “my” office and said, “Mom needs your help.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“She needs you to open a jar of pickles and a jar of jalapeno peppers,” Emma said.
“Well, as long as it’s important,” I said.
When I got downstairs, my wife announced that she was combining two jars of jalapenos into one and that she also was combining two jars of pickles into one.
“I will put out a news release right away,” I said.
My wife told me I was being sarcastic.
“Why don’t you just go up to ‘our’ office and finish that column thing you do?” she said.
When I got back into “my” office, I saw that someone had sent me a text. It was from Emma. This is what it said: “Dad, will you make popcorn for Katie and me?”
I hate snow.
DO YOU HAVE AN IDEA for Mike Pound’s column? Call him at 417-623-3480, ext. 7259, or email him at email@example.com. Follow him on Twitter @mikepoundglobe.