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First, a status report. My cheese is fine. Nobody’s moved my cheese; my cheese is right where it’s always been.
Cheese, you see, is the reward you get for making it through the maze. It’s the fun stuff. Cheese is:
Cheese is the fun stuff. I’m not going to lose track of my cheese. It’s front-of-mind, and I know exactly where it is.
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There’s a guy at my gym whom I call Burl. Not because he’s burly, like you’d expect a gym regular to be, but because he looks like Burl Ives. (For you younger readers, Burl Ives was a rotund, congenial-looking man, whom you may know as the voice of Frosty the Snowman. He was not known for his rock-hard abs.) Burl is there every morning, sitting on an exercise bike, watching TV. Not actually exercising, mind you. I’ve never seen him ...
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Everything is better in first class. Right? I mean, that’s why they call it first class. It puts you ahead of the rest. How many times have you been sitting back in steerage (the airlines call it “economy”), seen the people in the front of the aircraft being served foie gras and vintage champagne and thought to yourself, “Everything will be great once I get into first class”? For that matter, how many times have you thought:
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I waste way too much time. When you work for yourself, that’s real easy to do. Although, come to think of it, when I worked for other people I wasted way too much time as well. I’m trying to get better, which is why I’m writing this now. I’m sitting in a lounge in Dulles airport and I’ve got 20 minutes before I need to board my flight to Seattle. My choice—and the choice we all have virtually every waking ...
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I just got back from the gym. Perhaps not the earth-shattering news you’ve come to expect from this blog, but to get the full impact you have to know two things:
But, because of some scheduling conflicts, it turns out that 7:30 this morning was the only time today I could go. Yes, I could have opted to simply ...
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