Working from home on websites for international customers has certain occupational hazards if you live out in the middle of nowhere.

Allow me to explain. I pay for my family's daily rations of bread, water and the occasional snow flake (when in season) by promoting my clients' sites, mostly to the search engines. My clients don't live just down the road from me. That's mostly because my clients are neither sheep nor cows, but also because they are comfortably settled in Australia, Britain, Florida, the Midwest, California and other far-flung places.

Occasionally, one of them wants to know where in Canada my operations are located. It would sound most impressive to mumble something about a 32nd floor vista overlooking the Toronto harbor, then hold the phone out the window to capture the sound of honking horns and shouts of foul language below.

However, a more honest answer would be that I am overlooking snow, trees, and snow...and in the distance I can see the barn where the sheep choir practices on summer afternoons.

I suppose I could fake it. The problem is that they don't sell CDs full of honking and swearing. And relaxation music probably won't impress many clients.

So I just tell the truth. I live in the middle of nowhere.

But where exactly is the middle of nowhere? About a mile to the east is Dunbar, a fourteen-home hamlet that boasts two churches, a community hall, a play park, a lube service for farm equipment, and the tulip lady, whose yard is somewhat messy but looks like a festival every spring.

A mile to the west is Elma, a hamlet that boasts a dozen houses and a truck.

We live in a nameless hamlet half-way between, but we do overlook the Elma Public School, which must have immigrated during a slowdown in the Elma economy (the truck driver went on vacation!).

Think I'm making this up because this is a humor column and I'm supposed to stretch the truth to make it sound funny? Not this time. But wait – reality gets even funnier.

If you send me a letter, do not address it to "middle of nowhere" or "nameless hamlet". The post office and the phone company both say I live in Chesterville. But there are a few complications.

For instance, Chesterville is actually a seven minute drive past cows, horses, trucks, corn fields and Dunbar's famous tulip lady. In theory, we could walk it in a brisk three hours, but we have not tested that theory yet.

Another complication is that Chesterville does not technically exist.

About the Author: David Leonhardt is author of one of the best happiness self-help books and of many free self-actualization articles for reprint. Visit his website on personal growth and happiness or his website on liquid vitamin natural supplements.