R recently had her friend M over to play. They petitioned hard for me to participate, but I had work to do.
M asked, "Do you do work? What kind of work can you do."
R explained, "He does work on the computer. Everybody works."
M: "Except for burglars."
I joined the conversation. "Well, burglars work. Sort of. It's just a different kind of..."
My voice tailed off. What on earth am I saying? Burglars don't work. They steal stuff from other people's houses. That's not work. Yes, they might call it doing a job, but that's different.
I had the sudden realisation that the isolation that comes from working at home in a solitary pursuit has distorted my view of the world. This effect has been made more severe by spending so much time in the company of five year olds. So much so, that I have begun to imagine life outside as resembling a Richard Scarry book...
M asked, "Do you do work? What kind of work can you do."
R explained, "He does work on the computer. Everybody works."
M: "Except for burglars."
I joined the conversation. "Well, burglars work. Sort of. It's just a different kind of..."
My voice tailed off. What on earth am I saying? Burglars don't work. They steal stuff from other people's houses. That's not work. Yes, they might call it doing a job, but that's different.
I had the sudden realisation that the isolation that comes from working at home in a solitary pursuit has distorted my view of the world. This effect has been made more severe by spending so much time in the company of five year olds. So much so, that I have begun to imagine life outside as resembling a Richard Scarry book...
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