What exactly do men do in their tricked-out electronic hideaways? You know, when they’re “working.”
“What do you do in there?” I asked my husband, a carpenter, about his shop. “Listen to audiobooks by Sebastian Barry,” he said. “Tune the drill out and the Irish in with noise-canceling headphones.”
O.K., but that’s him. Illuminated by high-def kaleidoscopes, supercharged with fast wifi and cradled in what seem like yottabytes of audiovisual data, other tech-sequestered men must use their superempowered alone time for something more momentous than novels. Tundra analysis or tornado prevention.
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