Like countless other self-employed New Yorkers, my home office is actually my bedroom – or is it the other way around? Whichever the case, every night I’m reminded, in the most delightful way, of the room’s dual personality. 

 

As I turn out the lights and crawl into bed, I’m surrounded by an eerie ether-world illuminated by clusters of multicolored lights.  And the beauty of it is, that it’s not outside my window – but inside the room. So for me, and thousands other moonlighting city dwellers, every bedtime is an opportunity to sleep under the stars.

 

My north star glows from the panel of my all-in-one printer/fax/copier.  Then there’s the phone set gleaming blue when I have a message.  My nightstand is illuminated by my clock’s LED readout and moonbeams radiating from my phone charger.  The green blinking modem is orbited by a n orange super nova from the surge protector.  Like a kid at the planetarium, I’m dazzled by these million points of light.  

And the best part is that my bedroom galaxy, like its astronomical twin, appears endless. There’s an aurora borealis from the battery on my laptop, rays of white light emanating from my iPod docking station and an eternal “full moon” overhead which doubles as a smoke alarm.  And in summer, the effect is heightened by the cluster on the control panel of my air conditioner (two red, one green). 

 

Who would’ve dreamt that working from home would afford me such celestial celebration? As a byproduct of modern technology, I can now enjoy multi-hued constellations every night, free from the dulling effects of poor visibility or inclement weather.  And with my actual view a sunless courtyard, this heavenly display makes every night as exciting as the Fourth of July.   I can even do my part to keep it interesting simply by rearranging my electronics.  Talk about master of the universe! 

 

Yet amidst all this glory, I’m haunted by one nagging concern.   What would happen to my plugged-in sky view if suddenly there was a blackout? So please Con Ed, stay on it because without my starry, starry nights, I’d have to give in and finally rent an office and surrender to the night.