Flexibility is the name of the game
Rolling with the punches no matter what the road throws at us.
Welcome to another week of life on the road. I’m Genie Leslie, a freelance writer working remotely and traveling the country with my husband.
This week, we’re in Charleston, South Carolina, enjoying historical houses and nearby beaches.
As much as we loved Nashville (and especially loved our Nashville Airbnb), Aaron and I were both pretty ready to leave when the time came.
When we first started this journey, we’d get anxious about packing and moving several days before it was time to leave. In Ocean Shores, it felt like the entire last week was filled with restless energy—we felt like we should be packing but, of course, we were still using everything because we were still living there for a few more days. It’s not like a big move where you pare down to the bare essentials in your final days—we’re already very pared down. We really can’t pack much until the night before and the morning of our exit.
Now, ten months into this journey, we’ve got packing down pat. We do laundry on Thursday, so items that need to can air dry overnight and get folded away on Friday. We pack all our clothes, office supplies, and most of the dried foods on Friday night. We put whatever we can into the car the night before, and for the most part, all the containers go into the same spot in the car every single time. We leave as little to do as possible for Saturday morning, so we can get up and hit the road. It’s a system and it works for us.
The same pretty much goes for our arrival in a new spot. We arrive, we figure out how to get in, and we unload. We unpack some that night (I like to get my clothes settled immediately if I can) and some on Sunday, and otherwise, rest on Sunday.
Monday morning rolls around and it’s back to work as usual.
But two things can throw this whole arrival system out of whack, and we encountered both in Charleston—issues with the Airbnb, and issues with the Internet.
When we decided on Charleston, we quickly realized that most of the Airbnbs that met our criteria were out of our price range. Maybe this is truly one of the most expensive cities to visit, and maybe it’s also related to our booking only two months ahead of time, but either way, we had *exactly* two Airbnbs to choose from: a house in North Charleston, far away from the water and the downtown action; or a two-bedroom apartment smack dab in the center of the city.
I wondered if we might want the extra space—we know at this point that space for both of us to do our jobs, day in and day out, is pretty crucial. But as Aaron pointed out, people who’d recommended Charleston to us had specifically recommended being close to the action of the city. Would living farther out end up feeling too far?
We decided to go for the apartment; it was just a month, it still had two bedrooms, it looked nice enough. We could make it work. But when we arrived, we realized exactly how a wide-angle lens and good lighting can make a place look better.
The apartment’s fine, I don’t mean to complain. But it is small. Crowded and crammed with furniture; I’ve already stubbed my toe several times. And it’s an interior apartment, with windows only in the back and front, so the living area and kitchen get no natural lighting. It’s dark in there.
As we moved our stuff in, you could feel the disappointment creeping in between the two of us. We’ve both learned to accept that moving to a new place sometimes comes with the sadness of the leaving your last spot and the discomfort of figuring out something new before you’re comfortable. But this felt a little bit different. How were we gonna make this space work for over a month? (Because, yes, we extended our stay a few weeks ago when I signed up for an online writing workshop that takes place over the weekend we otherwise would’ve moved out, so it’s a full five weeks.)
On Sunday, we wavered between feeling our disappointment and trying to see the brighter side of it all. The lack of natural light really brought me down, but at the same time, we still had a place to sleep, eat, and work. We went to the beach for a bit on Sunday, so Aaron could stand in the ocean and soak up the waves; we ate a meal and had an afternoon cocktail; and we walked around downtown to scope out the city.
We lightened up as we marveled at the architecture here, and the ways the city reminds us of New Orleans. We noticed, and then kept pointing out to each other, this particular architectural detail we’d never seen before of a house having a front door that opens onto an exterior side porch. (Apparently they are called hospitality doors and I’m now obsessed with them.)
It was all going to be fine.
On Monday morning, I got up early enough to walk around the city, come home to shower and dress, make coffee, make my breakfast, and sit down at my computer just in time for my first meeting of the day.
Except I couldn’t connect to the Internet.
Aaron was fine; he was able to connect without an issue. But I couldn’t.
I tried restarting. I searched all the Apple instructions for a Mac not connecting to the Internet. I tried forgetting the network and connecting again. I got enough power to join a meeting, albeit off camera and with not-a-few lags and glitches; then I lost it again. None of my webpages with all the shared working docs for my projects would load. I absolutely could not function as an employee.
I rushed down to the apartment building’s “study lounge” (I’m pretty sure this is an apartment building geared toward college students) with brief hopes that the Internet there would be different, better. But it was not. I connected just enough to get one task completed before it all fell apart again.
This was absolutely not sustainable for a month of work. And I had no real access to IT help all the way back in Seattle. So I googled co-working spaces in Charleston and found one less than a mile away. I emailed to find out if I could see the place and try it out, and by Monday afternoon, I was parked at a desk in front of a window getting work done.
And after all that, after the rush, the panic, the sweaty 15-minute walk, and the office tour where I barely concealed the fact that I was desperate and was going to pay for space no matter what, I found myself...
Pleased with the way things had turned out. Of course, I didn’t want to add the unexpected expense of renting a desk for a month to our budget (especially considering our Airbnb had turned out to be worth far less than what we paid). I hadn’t planned to need to leave every day just to check my work email or make a few project edits.
But it felt good to go out for the day. It felt nice to make the walk from the apartment to the office, even in the South Carolina heat. I was able to work in a room filled with natural light after all. And it was nice to meet up with Aaron for dinner at the end of the day and ask him how his day was—you know, because I wasn’t present for his whole day for the first time in months.
I may never want to go back into an office full-time, and I certainly don’t want to go back into an office on someone else’s terms for someone else’s reasons, but that doesn’t mean I only ever want to work from my home either. The flexibility is what makes remote work so great; the ability to find a place, or multiple places, where you can do your best work on any given day. And this month, that place is a desk in front of a window a mile away from my husband.
Flexibility is the name of the game in our travels, too. When something doesn’t work, we change direction, quickly. Most of the time, it’s gonna be fine; everything is temporary. Literally, our entire homes are temporary. This month may just be more about getting out and exploring on foot than our last few places have been. We traded space in the home for walkability and proximity to action. And it may just be the summertime break from our homebody routines that we need.
I’m choosing to roll with it.
What else is going on?
There has been a good amount of rain and thunder here, which y’all know we love.
We finished season 3 of Ted Lasso. This season had its ups and many downs, but I’m still sad to say goodbye to this show. (Though, are we actually saying goodbye?)
On Monday, Aaron met me for dinner at Darling Oyster Bar and we had a delicious meal together. We are happiest when we’re near fresh seafood.
I’ve finally finished Yellowjackets season two. It wasn’t a perfect second season, but oooh, I love this show. Watch it (on Showtime) if you like the idea of Lord of the Flies meets teen girls of the 90s, and if you can handle a fair amount of gore.
The writer’s strike is still going on! And SAG-AFTRA has voted yes on a strike authorization vote ahead of their own contract negotiations, so we’ll see where that goes. If you want to support writers who may need assistance as the strike continues, you can donate directly to film and TV professionals through the Entertainment Community Fund.