It’s a little creepy how much this looks like me, except for the hair and lack of facial scars.
I just downed tools for the day on a secret project that was supposed to be a side project—but has completely taken over my life.
I’ve got these big, dark pouches under my eyes because I’ve been waking up at two or three in the morning, and the moment any coherent thought stirs in my brain, it’s this project I think about. And once I start thinking about it, I can’t stop. It's... becoming a bit of a problem, really.
Although I guess I shouldn’t complain. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this obsessed with a series of books.
Yes, it’s a series.
Yes, it’s almost finished.
And yes, I’ve been surprised at just how deep into it I've fallen.
You’ll be surprised too, once I can finally tell you about it.
One of the weird things I’ve been reminded of—something I sort of knew already but have had brutally reinforced lately—is how impossible it is to get a full day’s work done during a full day. Even when you’re absolutely in the groove, killing it like a champion.
I try to get to my desk by 8:30 in the morning and wrap up around 5:30 in the afternoon. So, what—seven or eight hours?
I control my own schedule. I don’t really have meetings. I work from home, so there’s no commute.
And even then, if I'm working an “eight-hour day,” the absolute maximum I can expect is about six hours of real work.
I’m not sure where the rest of the time goes, but I’ve got some pretty good time-tracking software now, and it’s brutally honest:
Eight hours on the clock? Best-case scenario, six hours of actual work. And that’s pedal to the metal all day.
Is that everybody else’s experience?
I’m always curious about the work lives of people who don’t live on the bizarro planet that I do.
*sighs* (Still loving these dictation artefacts)