It happens most weeks: I’m sitting in front of the monitor in my home office, tapping my fingers along the desk, and endeavoring to stay focused while writing a poem, a blog post or an upcoming speech. The moment my fingers touch the keyboard’s home keys, I’m distracted by Winston and Rosie’s paws tapping along the hardwood flooring towards me, nudging their noses on my leg in hopes that I’ll take them outside again. Or, I’ll catch a glimpse of the mountain of laundry (involving single socks I don’t even recognize) which I should sort, fold and carry upstairs. Once I see it, it’s all I can see. Because the laundry doesn’t disappear upon me wishing it away, and because I’ve yet to train my dogs how to open the door whenever they want to chase that squirrel they never catch, I need to write where I’m comfortable and in an environment conducive to productivity.