Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Ol’ Robbo had himself a small adventure today, going into his office for the first time since they chucked us out back in March of last year. (I was just there to pick up some files I need.)

It was strange to see the place “frozen in time” as it were, with long-outdated calendars on the wall and things pretty casual on my desk. (When we originally left, Ol’ Robbo naively believed we’d be out for a week or two, tops.) I’d even forgotten which pictures of the Gels I had displayed on the windowsill.

Another surprise was that somebody (I assume on the cleaning crew) has been watering the small ivy I have in a pot. I figured it long dead and gone by now. That’s nice of them.

Nonetheless, I can’t say that I’ve really missed the place at all.

Now I hope that I’ve posted my skepticism about Covid-palooza here sufficient times that friends of the decanter will not lump me into what Ace calls the let-them-eat-cake Laptop Class when I say this, but if I never have to go back on a regular basis for the rest of my career, I won’t mind it one tiny bit. Not because of scaredy-cat lockdowns or distancing nonsense, which I often mock, but instead simply because I’ve found technology allows me to do my work from home just as well, and not having to schlepp back and forth has saved a ton of wear-and-tear, not to mention money. Heck, Mrs. R is even beginning to talk about moving out of the area altogether and remoting in from some more idyllic location.

I guess we’ll see what happens. From a strictly selfish point of view, the only good thing about the successive waves of panic over the latest “variant” is that it kicks any future return farther down the road.