Uncommitted time I anticipate with pleasure, but planned time I often anticipate with a low level of discontent, even if it’s time I planned for pleasure. Why is that?
[edit, 8/13/24]: I think it’s planned social time that evokes the mild discontent—and I think it’s because I still hold an idolatrous candle for solo productive time. After all these years, GTD is still my god. Sigh.
Switching costs and triskaidekaphobia be damned: We ought to ditch the Gregorian calendar and replace it with a this (Scotian?) alternative:
Accountants would be happy about this. Computer code would be simpler. And no one would have to remember “Thirty Days Hath September” any more.
Welp, that settles it: A single game of Civilization VI on its fastest speed (other than battle turns) took me 10.5 hours. I will never play it again.
Become love plankton.
This.
My new motto is: “Live every day like it’s your last.” And no, that does not mean find a hospital, go there, find a room and lay down, eyes twitching…
— Sullivan
Carla: It’s 7:57.
Scott: What!? Already?
Carla: I know. Like, what the fUuuuuuUuuck? [moment of silence] Sometimes I say that just to assert my adulthood.