Now that I work from my boat, I miss the comfort of the office – and the long-running war I waged over my contraband kettle and illicit cider
For the past five years, I’ve been “working from boat”, sailing in a crystal Mediterranean sea, with turtles nibbling at my anchor. Sounds fun. It’s not. I miss the office.
There are problems with working in paradise. Imagine spending your tea breaks checking the anchor isn’t dragging your workspace towards treacherous rocks, stupid jet skiers swerving by while you type. Imagine wondering if the sun has provided enough power to charge your laptop, or assessing whether a storm is likely to hit before deadline – should I sail 20 miles to shelter before I file?
