People think being an artist must be a wonderful way to earn one's living. And of course, there are lots of great things about working for oneself, at home alone, even in a cold studio like mine. What I really like is that nobody tells me what time to start in the morning. I like to paint as soon as I wake up, which is always early, but isn't the same time every day. And nobody tells me what to wear or whether I can take the afternoon off and go to a football match. But then, I have no one to chat with when I'm bored, no one to discuss last night's match with during the office lunch hour. Sure, I can spend the afternoon doing something I enjoy like cycling or gardening if I choose. But the work will still be there when I do finally get back home. Unfortunately, working at home means that people can always find me, whether I'm bored or not, and once I've answered the doorbell, it's too late -- my thoughts have been interrupted. No one would dream of calling in if I worked in an office, but I find myself listening to friends' troubles. As they talk, my ideas disappear and I feel increasingly stressed thinking of my work waiting to be done. However, when I hear the traffic news on the radio, and imagine my friends sitting miserably in their cars in a jam, feeling bored, or waiting unhappily for an overcrowded train in the rain, I realize that I really haven't got much to complain about. I find a CD which will start me thinking, turn it up really loudly and begin another picture. The writer plays loud music because   _  .
the traffic outside is noisy it helps him to have ideas it prevents him from feeling bored he doesn't want to hear the doorbell