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My dad is a writer who works from home. Growing up, I thought this was very strange, especially when I stayed home from school and observed him in his natural habitat, doing the crossword in pyjamas (gym shorts, NFL T-shirt), interviewing people in pyjamas, asking—and answering—rhetorical questions, in pyjamas. Take-your-kid-to-work day was essentially a sick day for me. I’d watch Maury in my pyjamas while my dad went to work in his. Not much has changed since. In fact, I am in my pyjamas right now (sweatpants, NHL T-shirt) because I am also a writer who occasionally works from home. I no longer watch Maury (cancelled) but I do phone interviews from bed and I take my lunch break standing at the fridge—over a block of Gorgonzola that I eat throughout the day.

Some say it’s unhealthy—not just the cheese, but the general business of never actually going to a place of business: the routine isolation of the telecommuter lifestyle. One study from Mitt Romney’s alma mater, Brigham Young University, concluded that lack of social interaction—an inevitable by-product of working from home, let’s face it—can be just as bad for you as smoking. (Smoking while working from home? You might as well kill yourself.) Studies abound decrying the loneliness-inducing and laziness-promoting effects of telecommuting. Apparently, people are social creatures who need to interact with other creatures, even if it means getting dressed and leaving the house once in a while. Continue…