James Lileks sums up the whole work-at-home parent thing quite nicely:

It’s amazing: I’ve been going 97 MPH since I got up, and I still haven’t fixed the two big things that need fixing – mail, and the submission for the book. I’ll be up until two with this krep. This isn’t fun. The individual components of my life are fun; I still love what I do, but the aggregate effect is doubleplus unfun. I know it’s hard to understand why I can’t fix the flippin’ email and RESPOND to people to whom I owe responses, but the moment there’s one millisecond of free time the phone rings, or I have to make Gnat lunch, or the Oak Island Water Feature makes a horrid gurgle and I have to shut it off, or the dog yarks up half a crayon, or Gnat needs to have the spelling checked on her thank you notes – honest to God, I feel like a gong that’s being struck every 17 seconds.

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