At-home horror: Awaiting the silence of the Oreos

You may think an Oreo cookie is incapable of speech, but those of us who work from home know better.

We know that an Oreo's unique combination of sugar, enriched flour, high-fructose corn syrup and soy lecithin imbues it with a crude brain stem and rudimentary voice box.

You have to listen carefully. Tune out the sounds of your house and of your neighborhood -- the leaf blowers, the hum of the computer, the settling of the floorboards, the dreamy whimpering of the sleeping dog -- and let your mind go blank.

Look away from your keyboard. Ignore your pressing deadline. Banish the gnawing suspicion that because you now work from home your boss has forgotten that you exist.

There! Hear it? A faint but insistent cry, echoing as if from the bottom of a well?

"Eat me! Eat me! Eaaaaaattttt meeeee!"

That is the sound an Oreo makes, in a cupboard, in the middle of the day, when it thinks no one is around.

Someday, scientists will isolate this call on tape, the way they caught the distinctive double-rap of the ivory-billed woodpecker. Until then, trust me that it makes this sound. And trust me that there is only one way to respond to the plaintive cry of the lonely Oreo, and that is to get up and eat it.

Which is why I think telecommuting might be great for the environment but not so great for me. If only the treadmill in the basement had as developed a cerebral cortex and vocal cords as the Oreo. Poor, mute treadmill.

I have been trying to resist the siren song of the Oreo for a few months now, ever since I had to flee my office while the newsroom is being renovated. Reporters and editors are secreted in odd little nooks and crannies all over the Post building, like mice in a crawl space. For some of us, it makes sense to mainly work from home.

I have to admit there are some advantages. I can be at "work" as early as I want to be. My commute has been slashed to 20 seconds, the time it takes to get from the breakfast table to the study. I've gained at least 90 minutes a day that I used to lose getting to and from 15th and L streets NW.

Then there's the time I used to waste on personal hygiene. Showering, shaving, changing out of your pajamas -- these seem like overkill when you work from home. (Just how many days can a telecommuter go without bathing? A friend of mine from academe says when your dog won't stay in the same room with you, it's time to hit the showers.)