This week I got the excellent news that this is now my permanent work desk:

My desk at home.

My company has decided to save itself a packet by no longer maintaining office space in Seattle. Permanently. My boss hastened to reassure me that my job remained safe, but all Seattle employees on our team would work remotely from here on out.

I’m glad to hear it, but not as unalloyed joyful as I expected. I kind of started looking forward to seeing my Seattle colleagues, even if we didn’t directly work together — sharing baked goods, writing the jokeboard, going for walks at lunchtime — although maybe not so much that final one, given the shocking rise in violent crime in the neighborhood around our office tower. I didn’t want to do it five days a week, but a couple days sounded like a good mental health break from being alone in my apartment.

In any case, some executive bit the bullet, took the hit on the sunk cost of all the remodels they did to the office during the pandemic, and made the right call. Good for them.

And possibly good for me. I did immediately start thinking where I could work remotely from — California, Florida, Australia, places warmer and more pleasant than here. I like the idea of going to a place and living there for like a month, working during the day and then going out and getting to know the area well. That sounds like a lot of fun, and maybe plausible in the future.

So, full remote for all time! The final piece that cements my commitment to this job, which features great people, interesting work, and (in the scheme of technical writing) a good salary. What else could I hope for?

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