I used to fantasize about having my own office. I didn’t fantasize about WORKING there…instead, I pictured my future office as a tranquil place with a small fridge and subdued lighting, where I could go at night and read or perhaps have wild sex on the couch.
In University I did have a few offices, but they were sickly places without windows or adequate ventilation. I did schoolwork in those offices and sometimes I slept in them, but I never viewed them as a sort of refuge.
I still look at buildings and fantasize about having cozy offices in them. Yesterday, while imagining the joy of having an office in an old public school, I realized that I already DO have an office, or at least a mostly-private cubicle...but I would NEVER think of hanging out there for pleasure. I spend enough time at my workplace already. Even when the six-year-old neighbour on the right is practicing his newly-discovered "shrieking ability," and the teenage neighbours on the left are bashing themselves against my workroom wall, I'd still rather be at home than at my office.
The more I think about it, the more I understand that what I REALLY yearn for is a PLEASURE COTTAGE, isolated but still close to my home, that is cleaned nightly by custodians and has a fabulous view. And a couch.
So in other words I'm out of luck.