When I found myself suddenly working from home every day in March 2020, I assumed with foolish optimism that it was an ephemeral situation. And so I thoughtlessly plopped my work laptop on the corner of a wooden desk dominated by another machine and spent the next six months inelegantly arched over this “setup,” my forearms aching, my shoulders tightening, my back screaming. My daughter called me a nincompoop (for this and many other things). She was not wrong.
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