Today I was scheduled for one meeting, a silly meet-and-greet with nary an agenda item. I stayed home and conference-called in. As I used one hand to listen to everyone blather awkwardly about the weather, I used the other to water the trees I planted yesterday. The person who called the meeting explained his purpose in assembling everyone. "Well, I just wanted to touch base and say hello," he said. "I'm sorry I don't have more. Do you have anything, John?"
"I'm just glad to be here," I said, not joking. Everyone laughed.
They talked about which neighborhoods in Seattle are cool. I daydreamed about a world without phones. Right when I was absent-mindedly using my grandmother's back-scratcher on my left butt cheek, Jason asked what I was doing at that very moment. I paused mid-scratch. Do I tell?
"He's probably fishing," he said.
"Something like that."
I knew, of course, that vending from home would add hours to my day. I have to say, though, that I'm blown away by the cumulative effect of this work style. Free of interruptions and the overhead of meetings, 1:1s, reviews, brown-bags and other corporate atrocities, I can get a full workday done in about 4 hours. No commute? Plus 2 hours. That's about 30 waking hours per week that I did not used to have. I get everything done nowadays. Even when I have to work overtime, the entire day doesn't vaporize on me. Yesterday was typical. I worked ten hours, with four hours of gardening in the middle, and I was still done by 6:30.
Dear god, please oh please oh please don't let the gravy train ever stop, amen.