It's almost like being at home.
I guess that once I'm sitting in front of a computer, it doesn't really matter where that computer is located. Sure, there are some software differences, and maybe even the keyboard may have a slightly different feel (and I haven't done any extended work on a Macintosh for ages) but just as most pencils are pretty much alike, once I've started working in front of the screen, it's pretty much like home. True, I'm not used to having a cat jump into my lap as I type, but there's certainly nothing new or different about being the only person awake in a dark house late at night, and not noticing that I'm continuing to work much later than I'd intended. I can't pull down books from the shelf and find a reference which is perhaps normally at my fingertips, and I don't have the hints and suggestions that simply having those books around me seem to call up, but I can still check an online dictionary or thesaurus, run a search, and even access my bookmarks which I keep on the web for times such as these. I even find myself running out of the shower after having shut down the computer and finally started preparing for bed, looking for a slip of paper on which to jot down an idea which came to me while the water was running. It may be a different shower, but it brings up the same thinking process. And then the question once again presents itself: if what I'm ultimately doing is recreating my surroundings so that they're more and more like home, am I defeating my purpose in trying to write a column while away from home?

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