Hard at work   Leave a comment

Not me, obviously.

Damnit I am rubbish at catching up with this thing.

On Wednesday (the 23rd. Of November. I’m not even in the right month any more.) I was a zombie. Aside from all the usual reasons, this was because I was up at twenty past seven. The plasterers were due to arrive at eight.

They actually arrived half an hour late, but never mind. I offered them a drink and they, unusually, asked for coffee (of unspecified type); I was already two double espressos down, but thought it was a good time to try some of the coffee I’d bought for the cafetiere, so brewed a nice big pot of some other Taylors coffee – the Italian blend, I think. I thought I’d used fairly conservative quantities and timings, but they still asked for the next pot to be weaker. Oh well! I quite liked it, but I’ve definitely been spoiled by the espresso machine.

Despite their “late” start, they had finished putting in a ceiling, skimming everything, and patching up some holes, not long after I’d finished lunch. In the same time period, I’d made two pots of coffee, one lunch, and written twenty or so lines of code. Just goes to show. I didn’t even think I’d had a lazy day, considering how much of a zombie I was.

Anyway, their work was brilliant, so the upstairs of my house is now looking scarily like the upstairs of an actual house. Once I’ve done the filling in and sanding of walls in one room and woodwork in t’other it’ll be ready to decorate. All over by Christmas? No chance, I’ve got far too much to do. But if I didn’t, it would be possible.

I’m really coming over to this idea of paying people to do work for me. I was brought up to think that everything should be done by yourself, and that money should be jealously* hoarded at (ironically) all costs. But eventually I’ve come to realise that money is, essentially, worthless. It’s useful, necessary even, but of itself it has no value (not that I recognise intrinsic value as a real thing in any case); it only has value in what it can accomplish, be that tasty food, a place to sleep, or getting somebody else to sort out your problems. So, by refusing to use it you make it pointless. Worse, you have to spend time performing drawn-out or unenjoyable tasks yourself, trading time for money. Despite that at the end of every month I am given more money, but have less time.

Not that you shouldn’t know how to do things yourself; I definitely subscribe to Heinlein’s “specialisation is for insects” school of thought; but once you know how, you might as well avoid unpleasant tasks if possible. I also don’t mean money should be frivolously wasted; if you do that you’ll never have any with which to make others do your bidding. The pennies need looking after as much as ever (the pounds, of course, left to fend for themselves), and every expense should be carefully considered. And saving is always a wise course of action. But you shouldn’t be afraid to spend if it will make things, in a real and non-fleeting way, better.

So that’s my self-contradictory quasi-wisdom-waffle for the day. It’s no wonder I don’t catch up, but imagine how tedious it would be if this were just what happened on any given day? Probably even more tedious. You’ll soon see.

In the evening I went to the gym, which woke me up a bit. Despite that, I actually got to bed on time for once.

* Fun fact! “Jealousy” and “envy” are not the same; jealousy regards something of yours that you’re afraid to lose; envy regards something you covet that’s owned by somebody else.


Posted 5 December 2011 by Colthor in Diary

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