leaving

I left my office today, possibly forever.

Over the past four or so years, I've got very comfortable there, stupid high-rise rabbit warren that it is. It's familiar. Ingrained deeply enough into my brain that I can get to it, get around it and get away from it without ever having woken up properly. I can spend days, weeks, months on autopilot there, which I know isn't good for me but I've been struggling to persuade myself to give up that level of ease in exchange for uncertainty and scariness.

But the office is falling down (I might have mentioned), so we're being relocated for the short term until they find somewhere to put us for the medium term until they decide what to do in the long term. We've been advised that it'll take six months to stop the office falling down, and if everyone goes back, I'd like not to go with them.

The comfort is being taken from me. It'll be harder to get to work, the short term office will be much, much less pleasant (and "pleasant" would never have been a word I'd use to describe our building), and I won't really have my own space anymore. And since I'm going to be uncomfortable anyway, this might be the time to force myself to move on.