I never really wanted to work from home.

No ultra-fast Internet connection. No cabinet full of pens and notebooks. No one to dish about last night's "Grey's Anatomy."

It would just be me and the tank of fish.

And, speaking from past experience, they don't make the best conversationalists.

But starting tomorrow I will be released from the confines of the newsroom to work in the neighborhoods in which I live, shop, run, nap, dine and surf.

Eight of us will be armed with laptops and cell phones — and a newfound sense of independence.

I'll be meeting people in coffee shops in Kaimuki, checking e-mail from neighborhood parks in Kahala, and writing stories on beaches along the south shore.

Sounds like a dream gig, right?

To work in your pajamas, to surf on your lunch break, to do laundry while waiting for phone calls.

Sure, I'm excited about the obvious perks.

I can start my workday without sitting in traffic, without wearing uncomfortable heels, without worrying about finding a parking spot at the office.

But there are some things I will undoubtedly miss: chatting with co-workers, gushing over photos of dogs and babies, indulging in the seemingly endless supply of snacks and homemade goodies strewn all over the office.

There's something to be said for working in an office that goes beyond the free paper clips and dishes of candy.

You can bounce ideas off co-workers and talk through assignments with your boss.

You can borrow books, ask for help and vent to people who know exactly what you're going through.

And you usually know what's going on. Who's hired, who's sick, who's pregnant, and who's got a kid selling Zippy's chili tickets.

It's more than just being niele, though. It's about genuinely caring about the people I work with.

I've always believed that it's not always what you do but who you work with that affects job satisfaction.

One of the best jobs I've ever had was working in an accounting department for a local title company.

Yes, accounting.

This coming from an English major who barely passed trigonometry and can't figure out a 20 percent tip on a bar tab without doing the math on a paper napkin.

It wasn't the job that I loved — though I did enjoy punching numbers into those printing calculators.

It was the people I worked with — and our bosses — that made the office a place where I didn't mind spending eight hours a day.

Tomorrow I won't have that. I won't be surrounded by the banter, the laughing, the creative stimulation I've come to appreciate these past several years.

It's just me and the fish.

And the fish better get interesting fast.

Reach Catherine E. Toth at ctoth@honoluluadvertiser.com. Read her daily blog at blogs.honoluluadvertiser.com.