A million ways to die in the western part of the county

To work from home or not to work from home? That is never a question.

As we get closer to leaving Ye Olde Alligator Farm and closer to civilization, the “Which part of Civilization?” discussion is next. Will we live on the Mother Ship still too far north for my tastes? Or move gloriously, independently South? Or in the Deep South, so to speak?

Mom’s and my Spidey senses always have us north with the Mother Ship. Where I’m sure I will get snubbed for a big-girl office again and relegated to General Population. Which, I like my corner now. However, I can’t imagine I’ll get such a lovely setup next time around.

And today I got that stab in the heart that it’s “to the Mother Ship we go” when I had an overjoyed moment that there is someone I will never, ever, never EVER have to see again when we move. Like, Snoopy dance over-the-amber-honey-moon that’s outside my window right now.

And since the universe LOVES to fuck with me, I have a funny feeling I will be stuck with this person till I find a career alternative. Which, this is pretty much reason enough.

I think of how great it could be to sit in a room with my immediate team — my two counterparts S & P and the new person we recently brought on and the new person I’m about to bring on. This proximity could produce some big fat fucking magic, if you ask us.

And not to say they won’t throw us all in a room together on the Mother Ship. But it just won’t be the same. And we know how to come back from disappointments big and small. But I don’t know how long it would take to recover if we’re simply saying goodbye to Wally the Gator and taking with us everything else we have been literally living to leave behind.

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