I went back to work this morning, but I didn’t park in front of the same shapeless shoebox I’ve called home for four years. No, while we were gone, my humble employer packed up the tent and moved to a new campsite: the headquarters of a recently downsized defense contractor, not a half-mile up the street. The main floor of the space is a sprawling two-story greenhouse—a far cry from the cramped, low-ceilinged hovel we used to work from. Instead of the “welcome to my cousin’s basement” vibe our company used to have, now it looks like we actually produce something other than empty pizza boxes. Of course, for some reason that makes sense to people with larger paychecks than me, I’m banished to a different part of the building than the rest of the artists, who live down in the airy glassed-in section. Todd and I have been put upstairs in a section mostly populated by programmers, which isn’t bad, but a little demoralizing for me. There are a few perks: better workspace (still cubes, tho’), an on-site cafeteria, for the days we don’t feel like bringing or going out in the rain for food, better climate control (they’re still working out some kinks) and SPACE. Sweet, glorious space. Pictures will follow shortly.