Fridays at the oasis

Growing up, my dad would often go to his law office on weekends to get work done.

As a kid I didn’t really understand this. Dad had an office at home, and could close the door if he needed to. Usually he did this, but sometimes he left to go to his REAL office.

And now ... I sometimes do the same thing.

I don’t see patients on Fridays these days. In the postpandemic world my schedule still hasn’t returned to normal (maybe it never will and this is the new normal), and with research and case reviews and other stuff it seemed logical to just work from home and do them that day. My staff works from home, so if I’m not seeing patients, why can’t I?

After a few Fridays of this, I began going to my empty office, too, and understood where my dad was coming from.

My little solo office, as non-fancy as it is (the carpeting and interior are all from 1993), is quiet. From my back office I can’t hear the corridor hustle and bustle of people going to their appointments or arguing on a cell phone. Just the hum of the air conditioner and the occasional few seconds of a car alarm outside. If I put on iTunes no one complains about my musical tastes.

There isn’t much to do there BUT work, which is the idea. The building’s wifi is too slow to stream or watch Youtube. I’m not tempted to work on a puzzle with my daughter, take a book off a shelf, play with my dogs, or go down the hall for a nap. All the little things we do to procrastinate aren’t there, like convincing myself that I need to clean the pool or balance the checkbook ASAP.

I don’t have the distractions of my dogs barking at passing cars, or kids going up and down the hall, or the phone ringing with people asking who I’m voting for.

My little office is a private oasis, of sorts. Quiet and undisturbed.

Not quite Superman’s Fortress of Solitude, but close enough for me.

And, with all due respect to the Man of Steel, the Fortress of Solitude doesn’t have a Keurig.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

Growing up, my dad would often go to his law office on weekends to get work done.

As a kid I didn’t really understand this. Dad had an office at home, and could close the door if he needed to. Usually he did this, but sometimes he left to go to his REAL office.

And now ... I sometimes do the same thing.

I don’t see patients on Fridays these days. In the postpandemic world my schedule still hasn’t returned to normal (maybe it never will and this is the new normal), and with research and case reviews and other stuff it seemed logical to just work from home and do them that day. My staff works from home, so if I’m not seeing patients, why can’t I?

After a few Fridays of this, I began going to my empty office, too, and understood where my dad was coming from.

My little solo office, as non-fancy as it is (the carpeting and interior are all from 1993), is quiet. From my back office I can’t hear the corridor hustle and bustle of people going to their appointments or arguing on a cell phone. Just the hum of the air conditioner and the occasional few seconds of a car alarm outside. If I put on iTunes no one complains about my musical tastes.

There isn’t much to do there BUT work, which is the idea. The building’s wifi is too slow to stream or watch Youtube. I’m not tempted to work on a puzzle with my daughter, take a book off a shelf, play with my dogs, or go down the hall for a nap. All the little things we do to procrastinate aren’t there, like convincing myself that I need to clean the pool or balance the checkbook ASAP.

I don’t have the distractions of my dogs barking at passing cars, or kids going up and down the hall, or the phone ringing with people asking who I’m voting for.

My little office is a private oasis, of sorts. Quiet and undisturbed.

Not quite Superman’s Fortress of Solitude, but close enough for me.

And, with all due respect to the Man of Steel, the Fortress of Solitude doesn’t have a Keurig.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

Growing up, my dad would often go to his law office on weekends to get work done.

As a kid I didn’t really understand this. Dad had an office at home, and could close the door if he needed to. Usually he did this, but sometimes he left to go to his REAL office.

And now ... I sometimes do the same thing.

I don’t see patients on Fridays these days. In the postpandemic world my schedule still hasn’t returned to normal (maybe it never will and this is the new normal), and with research and case reviews and other stuff it seemed logical to just work from home and do them that day. My staff works from home, so if I’m not seeing patients, why can’t I?

After a few Fridays of this, I began going to my empty office, too, and understood where my dad was coming from.

My little solo office, as non-fancy as it is (the carpeting and interior are all from 1993), is quiet. From my back office I can’t hear the corridor hustle and bustle of people going to their appointments or arguing on a cell phone. Just the hum of the air conditioner and the occasional few seconds of a car alarm outside. If I put on iTunes no one complains about my musical tastes.

There isn’t much to do there BUT work, which is the idea. The building’s wifi is too slow to stream or watch Youtube. I’m not tempted to work on a puzzle with my daughter, take a book off a shelf, play with my dogs, or go down the hall for a nap. All the little things we do to procrastinate aren’t there, like convincing myself that I need to clean the pool or balance the checkbook ASAP.

I don’t have the distractions of my dogs barking at passing cars, or kids going up and down the hall, or the phone ringing with people asking who I’m voting for.

My little office is a private oasis, of sorts. Quiet and undisturbed.

Not quite Superman’s Fortress of Solitude, but close enough for me.

And, with all due respect to the Man of Steel, the Fortress of Solitude doesn’t have a Keurig.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.