I bought an escape pod for the back garden

Hey Reader,

So.

I have a confession...

My office is smaller than most people's wardrobes.

I'm not being dramatic. I can touch both walls with my arms out. Half a meter forward and I'm in the living room. The dog sleeps under my desk because there is genuinely nowhere else for either of us to go.. wait, I donlt have a dog, who's this?!

It was supposed to be temporary.

That was three years ago. When I had a job, a salary, and zero ambitions of becoming a woman who talks to herself on Zoom for a living.

Now I run a business from a nook that was designed for storing coats. My family can't watch TV when I'm on calls. My partner tiptoes past like they're defusing a bomb. The doorbell goes at the exact moment I unmute.

Every. Single. Time.

I looked into a proper extension.

The quote came back.

£30,000.

For an office.

I laughed so hard I nearly fell off my chair. Which would have been easy, because my chair is already half in the hallway.

So I've done what every self-respecting freelancer does when their workspace is a human filing cabinet and the quote for a real room makes them spit out their tea.

I've bought a pod.

A fiberglass pod. For the garden.

It looks like an Anderson shelter had a baby with a Teletubby house. It arrives insulated, wired, and ready for a woman who has clearly lost the plot.

Three years ago I had a desk job and a commute and sensible shoes. Now I'm a grown adult buying what is essentially a war bunker for the back garden so my family can watch Bake Off in peace.

And honestly?

I have never been more excited about anything in my life.

Not the business milestones. Not the client wins. Not the operating system I've spent months building.

A pod. In the garden. That's what's done it.

Because here's the thing nobody tells you about working for yourself: the work is the easy bit. The hard bit is convincing your household that your "temporary setup" isn't going to swallow the entire house.

If your home office started as a corner of the kitchen table and has slowly colonised every room like an ambitious fungus, I see you.

You're not alone.

You're just one garden pod away from admitting it out loud.

See you from the bunker,

Sarra

P.S. If anyone has tips on running an ethernet cable across a garden without it looking like a health and safety violation, I'm all ears.