Help! The New Yorker is taking over my life! I can now see that the gift subscription I got from Alt.L and Ctrl.Alt.L was a plot to get control over my time, mind, and soul. To the rest of my friends, if you guys love me, please DO NOT give me a gift subscription to The Economist, too. All I need to stop going to work are two heady weeklies. Thank God Time has a more manageable size, but I’ve been neglecting it lately. As for poor Fast Company and Wired, I’m two or three months behind on each… My apartment’s floor is littered with magazines, books are waiting patiently in ever-growing piles, and I only have two or three weeks left until I can no longer count on my bus commute for reading time. Because, in case I haven’t told you a thousand times yet, I’ll be biking to work. Yaay for cardio, sigh for my brain.
May I ask, again, why the day is not 36-hour long? I could easily continue to read, work, do stuff for 4-6 hours after I come home, but then I’d also like to sleep for 8. A back-of-the-envelope calculation shows that I’d go to sleep at 1 or 2 am, which means I’d be in the office at noon. Well, that wouldn’t work for me. I’d like it to be dawn when I get to work, so that I can enjoy that one extra hour of peace and organize my day with a freshly rested brain. I’m a morning person but once in a while I’d like to be a night owl. Why, oh, why can’t I have the cake and eat it, too?