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Article snippet: Hurricane Sandy hit the East Coast in October 2012 while I lived in New York and juggled three jobs. Along with working at a restaurant and a news agency on nights and weekends, I spent my weekdays commuting from Brooklyn to a media company in Manhattan. When the hurricane made landfall, it crippled the city’s public transportation system for weeks, leaving me all but severed from office headquarters. More than 8.1 million people in the region were without electricity in the days that followed. Yet in my Bedford-Stuyvesant apartment we had power, internet, and plumbing. This fortune came with another price: Those of us who were able to worked remotely. In the calm days following the storm, I woke up each morning, rolled across my sheets, reached for my laptop, logged into various tools — Google Chat, Basecamp, Trello — and got to work. My roommate would bring me coffee from the bodega, and I would not leave my bed until my shift ended (eight hours later), around which time I would shower and hike to a nearby bar for dinner. As the city fought to restore power, there was a candlelight afterglow wherever I walked. That first week I told myself, “I could get used to this.” Then things soured. I began to loathe working remotely. I felt unkempt and dirty, lonely and disconnected, malnourished and unhealthy. Turns out in my hasty jump into remote work, I had fallen for the most common pitfalls. More than five years later, I’m now a regular from-afar employee — whether ... Link to the full article to read more