Man, I need to see a therapist about my work-ethic-guilt issues. I have an accident, work at home for three weeks, and feel most comfortable talking on the phone while swinging in the hammock looking at my bearded irises. But it still feels wrong. Very wrong. Like why am I not in a suit and a bowtie acting over-caffinated and official? I have to say personal productivity is soaring, I finally have an office with a view, and it’s awfully nice to be able to recharge the batteries after a pretty hectic five months of weekly Raleigh commuting, overseas expeditions, and hanging out in the coolest company on the planet.
(I grew this)
I had just had the most pleasant call with Mitch Ratcliffe, watched an osprey fly by with a fat fish in its talons, had a half-dozen hummingbirds come visit, and solved all sorts of intellectually stimulating problems in the June twilight on Cape Cod. That and fielded Forbes.com alumni calls about Om’s move. Look, I don’t know how much money he raised, I don’t know how he plans on spending it, but I do know he is hatching a very cool scheme. For the rest of the story, bug Om, who has been off of IM all day and with good reason.