I hatched a crackpot scheme the other night: splitting my time between the coasts.
Two weeks in New York, two weeks in San Francisco, and so on. I would work alternately in my employer’s* New York and SF offices. Grayskull would live with SK. I would keep my stuff in both places. I’d meet this guy (and hopefully Tron Haigisamo too). I’d subsist on fish tacos and burritos al pastor. I’d swim with the dolphins.
I got so worked up that I called SK at 1:15am, while pacing figure 8s around my kitchen table. “OmigodguesswhatIthoughtofjustnow…” SK liked the idea, but also thought I was stoned and overzealous. “We’ll see,” was the note we left on, and it didn’t feel too hopeful. What boss is gonna let their employee work half-time 3,000 miles away?
Mine, as it turns out. Incredibly, my boss got excited about the chance to “create a West Coast presence for our editorial team” (though she won’t be paying for the plane tickets). She actually said, “I can’t see this as anything but a good thing.” So, starting in June, the flavor bursts will be bi-coastal. Whuh happen?