When I first started working for the company I recently stopped working for, we worked out of the owner's house in a little den off the main living room. Suite 101 we jokingly called it, we even had mail sent there.
In my guest room closet.
It is from here that I peruse Craigslist, get carpel tunnel filling out on-line job applications for UNC, (it literally took HOURS), IM my entire friend list (all six of them) on Facebook at the same time, and read the Daily Mail. While maneuvering around one or more cat bodies.
Picture me hunched over my cute purple ex-kitchen table, thinking up witty things to write on the blog, typing into the wee hours of the night.