The rest of this week went…. better.
Tuesday: Worked from home while Johnny went to Santa Cruz to work.
Wednesday: Woke up with a sore throat. Went with Johnny into Santa Cruz to work, run errands, and meet some friends.
Thursday: Throat still sore. Went with Johnny to Santa Clara to have lunch with best friend, then work at a cafe, with plans to go to STC meeting at night, while he went to Fremont to work at server farm. Flaw with this plan: It was a gabillion degrees outside, sunny, and there was no seating inside the Starbucks he dropped me at. I sat outside and worked (using a TMobile day pass) till my battery went dead, then switch to knitting. I am now “brown as a berry” for certain particularly reddish values of “brown” and berries that include “strawberry.” As in: red.
Friday (today): Worked at home, in air conditioned/shaded RV parked at hosts’ driveway. Went to post office to mail some stuff. Stayed indoors otherwise.
During our long drives on Wednesday and Thursday, Johnny and I are listening to The 4-Hour Work Week, which is basically a book (in our case, audiobook) detailing all the ways a person who is not risk-averse can exploit the labors of those who are. Essentially, you fob off your work onto others who want to have more control over the fruits of their labors. In this way, you can become (eventually) completely disconnected from the sources of your income, the people working for you, etc. It helps if you have no qualms about buying cheaply made crap from China and reselling it.
Um, which is not to say that we won’t be pursuing this kind of lifestyle (along with the gabillions of other New Yuppies who have read this best-seller). After all, I want to work as little as possible for as much gain as I can, too. So I can work as much as possible for nearly no gain as a novelist.
Uh, yeah. Truth is, I’m probably not cut out to be a millionaire. But don’t tell Johnny that– he has high hopes for our financial freedom.