Dude, Where’s My WiFi?

Obviously, I was not just going to sit home all day watching The Real Housewives of Beverley Hills while my little man was out at school.  When is it on again by the way? Love that show…

Neither could my depleting bank account afford to sustain my Lady who Lunches experiment for any further length of time.

I also spent a few days attempting to be a domestic goddess, before realising that was not really for me either.

But I do like to keep myself busy and I have gotten used to the pace of juggling a full-time job with a family, a WI committee and a blog.

So, I have started to work again.

From home and just for a couple of hours here and there.

You may have noticed the occasional sponsored post popping up on Grenglish.  These are posts that someone else has paid me to write and they will help to keep me in fancy shampoo and red wine.  And, you know, all the other items that the Greek God(zilla) disagrees are essential goods.

Then there is the post I wrote for Red magazine, which was out of pure love.

I have also started working with someone else ON A BLOG THAT IS NOT MINE.  Not as a writer, but on all the behind the scenes stuff and considering when I first started my own blog, I could barely insert an image into WordPress without a 15-minute tutorial, I feel this signifies how far I have really come on in this bloggy world (technical term).

However, there are obvious distractions to working from home.

The Real Housewives of Beverley Hills being one of them.

The fridge being another.

Not forgetting good old social media.

One thing was clear and that was if I was going to take this new venture seriously, I was going to need a proper space to work from.  Preferably one without a bed in it.

And I knew of just the room.

I did feel a bit guilty when I first started dismantling the Greek God(zilla)’s Man Cave.

But to be fair, his stuff is all still in there, it is just more efficiently stored away now.

I also had to make a few sacrifices of my own.  A gorgeous pair of Kate Kuba stilettos, never worn because they absolutely cripple me, had to go.  Size 10 flared jeans, taking up a whole shelf in the cupboard, also faced the chop and took all my dreams of ever pulling them up past my knees again with them.

I started to dig out my old handbags to see if I could make a cut there, but I just couldn’t do it.  Even though most of them now really only work in the life I used to live, I am not totally ready to admit to myself that there will never again be an occasion for a vintage silver clutch.

After many trips to the loft and the recycling centre, this is the new Grenglish HQ.

Nothing fancy, needs a fresh lick of paint on the walls and the curtains were there before we moved in, but it has a desk and it is in a lovely quiet part of the house.

I set myself all up in there excitedly on the first morning.  I made a cup of tea, took out my notebook, fired up the laptop and started writing my to-do list, while waiting for Gmail to open.

Come on…

Then this message THERE ARE NO KNOWN NETWORKS WITHIN RANGE

So, I clicked on my home network CONNECTION TIMED OUT

I toddled off downstairs and checked everything was plugged in, which it was.  I checked I was still receiving Facebook notifications emails on the iPhone and the iPad, and I was.

Yet back upstairs, not even a bar.

It would seem that this little quiet room at the other side of the house, was too remote for the wi-fi to reach.

Might have something to do with the little receiver box being tucked away behind the sofa.

So until the Greek God(zilla) comes home with a longer cable and we can agree a better spot for it, I am back in my old office.

The Real Housewives starts in a minute.  Now, where’s the remote?

*****

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featured image courtesy of nationalgeographic.com