The Sanctity of my Office

Is it terrible that I find my office so peaceful at night and sort of dread the eventual drive home? Its not that I don't like my house, or my husband, or my kid or my dog, its just that, my office is so much more clean.

The bathrooms normally smell nice, not like pug, and I don't have to bend over and fill the toilet manually, making sure i don't turn the lever the wrong way resulting in a shriek of surprise and a very wet head. There is always toilet paper, its the thin industrial kind, but as my husband has started stealing TP from his work, its actually the same as being at home.

In my office I have access to soda and snack foods all day, people actually bring me coffee becuase  I am just barely important enough to have underlings, sometimes they even bake things and leave them out for everyone to sample, the only baked goods I get at home are mud pies, unless of course, I bake them.

I am at least 85% more appreciated at work, with performance reviews, raises and general "way to go" comments on at least a quartly basis, while at home, the most i get is "thanks for dinner mommy" (which is awfully nice when it happens) and a reminder that the laundry has been sitting in the wash for three days and should propably be re-washed.

I am also an expert, and (somewhat)  important at work, people seek out my opinion and views and look to me for decisions, leadership and advice, it all makes me feel so very valued.  At home I am a "stupid head".

There are things I can't reach and chores I didn't do and toys I stepped on and cookies I won't give out, I think my quarterly performance rating at home would be somewhere in the  "Needs Improvement" category, while at work, I most often "Exceed Expectations" and am occasionally even categorized as "Outstanding".

At work,  I am acctually required to take breaks, a minimum of two 15, and one 30 minute breaks a day, occasional forays to the coffee pot are not discouraged and I can actually read the newspaper or a book that is of some interest to me .

At home, i hide in the bathroom with a book until someone pounds on the door demanding to use it,  so I can get a couple of extra pages in before its back to latest adventure staring Dora the Explorer (fascinating read by the way, highly reccomended)

I get to have adult conversations, and the topics rarely turn to poop, biting, and who is, or is not, coming to my birthday party.

My keyboard is never sticky, and my screens are never smudged with fingerprints, my phone is always charged, my desk, while cluttered, is at least organized and the only coloring is my own.

I love to be at work, and some days, I want to dig my heels in and hang on to my desk tight, refusing to leave the perfectly climate controlled, non dog smelling building, with only stacks of papers, not stacks of laundry and dishes.

But, then I get home, and she smiles at me, and her little pink head comes bobbing down the driveway and she hugs me. The words that make it all worth while come out of her tiny mouth;  "I missed you mommy" and i sigh, maybe it is okay to be home, maybe the rest of it doesn't matter. The husband kisses me and tells me he made dinner, that I can relax for a little bit, and I feel at peace, maybe it won't be so bad, maybe I don't need my office for my sanity, the dog licks my feet and wags her little pugglet tail, and I'm actually happy to be home.

Then, I walk inside....