When I used to work in an office I was always a really hard worker.

Unlike some people, for whom the term “slackness personified” got coined, I didn’t slope off to lunch early and return late. I never hung around the coffee machine prolonging break time, or phone in sick when I wasn’t really.

I worked hard, I got things done, and when there was too much to get done in the span of a normal day, I stayed late when absolutely necessary.

And when I was done, I went home and relaxed.

Working for myself, however, life doesn’t seem to be like that.

To start with, there is the difficulty of distinguishing when exactly work time begins and ends.

I usually make my work day fit in around my family’s timetable as life is just easier that way, but getting started in the morning without the prospect of a boss scowling at me if I have just one more cup of tea first can sometimes be a bit of a struggle.

And when I get chance in the evening, I tend not to know when to stop.

If lad’s in bed and partner’s out, I sometimes don’t stop until bedtime.

But by far the trickiest thing, for me, is definitely sickness.

When I worked in an office, it was easy. If I was too poorly to get myself out of bed, togged up and into the office of a morning, it was time to phone in sick.

But when you don’t have to do any of those things, how do you decide when you are not fit for work?

Especially when the illness isn’t of the can’t get out of bed, throwing-up-constantly, or shivering-with-fever type. It’s more of a generally wiped-out, totally exhausted, menopausally-challenged kind of ailment.

Normally I try to just keep going. It’s a guilt thing, I suppose. I hate the thought of turning into a daytime-telly-watching slacker.

But this week I have succumbed. The aches in my bones and the fog in my brain got the better of me. I wasn’t feeling miserable, just not right.

I don’t usually feel like this until winter properly sets in – and it’s been beautifully sunny and warm this week, so there’s no ready excuse there.

It’s not just my making mojo going walkabout. I haven’t even cooked dinner or caught up with housework or gardening.

I feel like I have been slackness personified. (Although I still didn’t watch any daytime telly.)

Thankfully, the dreadful achey fogginess seems to be lifting and yesterday, life started to feel much more do-able.

Now I just need my work ethic to return. Perhaps I need a stand-in boss to scowl at me of a morning.

If anyone wants to volunteer – or has any helpful suggestions as to how they motivate themselves to just get on with it when working from home – please do let me know. ♥