I’ve been working remotely for over 15 years. It’s a little secret many people still don’t know about me. My remote work life used to start late at night—it was my third shift, as I used to call it. No one knew except me, my laptop, and the internet. And somehow, everything always got done.
These days, I don’t wait for the third shift. As soon as I wake up, I’m connected. I walk over to my “office”—a bad habit maybe, but it helps me get shit done.
The biggest difference now? I can choose where to work from. And when I get the chance to work from our beach house in Port St. Joe, everything changes.
Freedom Looks a Little Different Out Here
I don’t work remotely from the beach house as often as I’d like—life in Tallahassee keeps me grounded. Kids, appointments, coworkers, projects… you know the drill. But when we do make it down to the Forgotten Coast, we find freedom.
Freedom is leaving the traffic and the chaos behind.
Freedom is trading the constant need to fill the day with work.
Freedom is working, but still living.
Down here, we breathe easier. We escape. We get things done—but we don’t let work steal the day and we get to enjoy this precious thing called life just a bit more.
We Left on a Monday. Worked Tuesday–Thursday. That Was Enough to Reset Everything.
I know, I know… we should be there on weekends. But life pulls us back. So this time, we left after work on a Monday and decided to work remotely through Thursday. It wasn’t long, but it was exactly what we needed.
Mornings Hit Different in Port St. Joe
No alarm needed. Just a thin orange light creeping through the bedroom window is enough to get me up.
On day one, I walk straight to the beach. It’s still surreal to me that we own this little slice of heaven. I’ve got 30 minutes before I need to get moving—so I jog, walk, breathe it in. I send photos to my brother. I make coffee (a habit I picked up just two years ago). I shower, cook breakfast, and set up my office on the back porch.
By 8 a.m., I’m logged in—laptop open, notebook ready, full agenda ahead. Back-to-back calls, Google Meet meetings, and emails for days. But here’s the thing: working outside fuels me. I get in the zone. Time disappears—until hunger snaps me out of it around 1 or 2 p.m.
Chuck usually starts the morning on the porch with me. But after a while, he moves inside to the dining table—his back prefers chairs. I’m lucky. My body adjusts to wherever I land.
Midday Breaks, Afternoon Focus, Sunset Magic
After lunch (usually leftovers from home), we walk the neighborhood. Phones in hand, still taking calls half the time—but we’re together. Moving. Resetting. And somehow still working.
Back at the house, I switch to my second-favorite work spot: the kitchen island. Chuck returns to his table. I dive back in while he jumps on Zoom with his team.
Unlike home, we have an end time here. We run or walk the beach, catch up, push ourselves a little. Then we finish our workout in the garage gym we set up.
Dinner? We take the golf cart to WindMark Village, grab pizza from Bruno’s, and head to The Mill for my favorite beer—Sensory Overload from Ology Brewing in Tallahassee. We sit, eat, and wait for the sky to do what it always does—turn magic.
Sunset. Walkway. Stars. The ride back home is even better, driving into the night sky. And we finish the show on our back porch.
Other Days, I Start Early—So I Can Go Play Later
Some mornings, I paddleboard. I slide my inflatable board into the Gulf just after sunrise—when the water is glass. It’s humbling, nerve-wracking, and peaceful all at once. I only get 30 minutes, but it’s enough. I rinse off, make coffee, and start working by 7 a.m.—this time from the kitchen island (hello, AC).
We wanted to explore Cape San Blas, so we planned to be done working by 3. It had been a year since we bought our beach house and we had never been.
19 Minutes from Our Door to the End of the World
Cape San Blas is just 19 minutes away—but it feels like another world.
We passed rock walls, collapsed homes swallowed by the sea, and erosion that tells its own story. We got out, walked near the water. It was wild. Beautiful. Heartbreaking.
We drove through the state park—T.H. Stone Memorial. We’ve seen it from our beach, but standing on that sand felt different. I wanted to swim or paddle across from Port St. Joe, but let me tell you, I won’t. I was told that channel is full of sharks. I’m good.
The beach was quiet. Workers were planting sea oats, and the sand was soft and bright. We explored real estate—because that’s what we do—and got lost down roads Zillow didn’t even name.
Eventually, we made our way to Scallop Republic, where we talked to the owner (Penny!) and lucked out with live music by Houston Keen.
Dinner was at Hunt’s on St. Joe Bay, a recommendation from a friend. No wait, bar seats, great food—and a sunset that quite frankly stopped time. We met our bartender Steve, who turned out to be an FSU grad. Small world.
That night, we passed out on the couch. Full day. Full hearts. One hell of an adventure.
It’s Not About Escaping Life. It’s About Choosing This One.
Our final morning was everything in one:
☕ Coffee
🚶♀️ A beach walk
💻 A few hours of work on the back porch
🏃♀️ A light jog
🧼 Quick clean-up
🚗 And just enough time to be back in the office for late-day meetings.
Working remotely from this house doesn’t mean I’m not working.
It means I’m not drained.
I still show up for my job fully—and I get to show up for myself too.
I hit deadlines. I take calls. I get shit done!
And I still paddle, walk barefoot at sunrise, and watch the sun set every night.
Yes—I’ve literally taken my laptop to the beach and worked from my chair with my feet in the sand. Because why the hell not?
We Didn’t Buy This House to Work from It. We Bought It to Feel Alive.
To walk barefoot to the water.
To have something that was ours—mine and Chuck’s.
A home that doesn’t ask us to be anything but present.
But life is what it is. Some days, work needs to get done. And surprisingly, that’s become part of the beauty too.
Your Forgotten Coast Sanctuary Awaits
If you’re one of the lucky ones who can work remotely—or just flex your schedule—this place is for you.
📍 Port St. Joe, FL
🏡 Forgotten Coast Sanctuary
🌐 Schedule your work-cation today: www.forgottencoastsanctuary.com