It was said last week (I'm intentionally using the passive voice here) that I've not yet tried commuting down the Peninsula multiple days each week, so I can't possibly know whether I like it or not.
But alas, I have, and I know: I do not like it. Not in a house, not with a mouse, &c.
It was one thing when Otis was my companion, and 7.20 or so most mornings would find us hurtling down 17th Street, Peet's in hand (and contributing, no doubt, to the speed of said hurtling), yelling 'Mooooooooove! For fuck's sake, just gooooooooooo!' at any car unlucky enough to come between us and the CalTrain station. It was one thing when we'd meet up with Wilder in the second-to-last car, then chatter with her for a while before we all settled down into our respective reading materials. It was one thing when, on the days we did drive, we'd be able to thumb our noses at the poor saps stuck in the normal lanes on 101 as we sped past in the carpool lane (at least as far as San Carlos, where it mystifyingly ends).
But even then, the commute still sucked. I can't imagine it'll be any better now.
Wallace's departure--the sort of bittersweet icing on the unpalatable cake--has set my mind reeling. More and more, I can't stop thinking that worsening commute or no, it's time to leave. Inertia kept me where I was, work-wise, for so long, at least until my job improved enough that I actually came to like it. But I'm not really willing to sit tight for many months (like I did last time) on the off chance that things will get better. I have a sinking feeling we're beyond that point now.
Besides, isn't there so much more out there? I don't mean jobs in the tech sector (as we all know they're rarer than an 80-degree August day in San Francisco), but rather more of everything: more cities, more companies, more experiences that have zip to do with work, more options and opportunities, provided you know where and how to look.
Wall's move is in some ways a big gamble (what will his co-workers be like? what is Dell culture like? is Austin as liveable as it seems?), but in others it will immediately pay off: he'll no longer have a two-hour commute each day, will be able to afford a larger house, will be more likely to be able to adopt a child, as he and Connie have wanted to do for a while now. It seems to me (from an admittedly removed perspective) that those sure things alone are enough to make the other crap shoots worth it. He's confident, at least, that things won't be any worse than they have been.
I once read a transcribed goodbye note somewhere that said simply, 'I'm leaving because I just can't stay.' Suddenly, irreversably, I'm starting to understand what that feels like.