UNTIL 2020, I would primp like a prize poodle before heading to the office. I’d press shirts, ponder outfits, sculpt my pompadour with a one-two punch of hair spray and pomade. This show dog has turned into a racing greyhound. Two and a half years of working from home—a setup that let me sleep until 8:55 a.m. and still be at my desk by 9—changed the game. When I finally returned to an office job, I wasn’t about to sacrifice my snooze schedule to that elaborate, get-ready rigmarole I once performed.

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