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The other night while dreaming, I found that in the middle of all the exciting things I was doing in my dream, battling dragons and the like, I had to pause for a couple of dream hours to quantify my experience into an excel sheet.
I am convinced that one day I am going to wake from one of these dreams to find myself at my computer at work typing "all work and no play makes Yoshi a dull boy" in all the excel cells. The identity crisis will only be the half of it.
I got in the lift today and was standing with my fellow denizens gazing upwards at the changing floors before stopping to wonder why they put screen with the floor numbers up so high. I decided it was either the prelude to a cult revolving around worshiping all digital technology involving numeric change (microwaves, alarm clocks, mobile phones) or it was to give you the sense of achievement, in looking upwards you somehow help the lift to ascend.
The bottom line is I’m getting tired, I’m waiting for that day when the beekeepers decide that enough productivity is enough and come and smoke me out of my office before gently lifting the entire structure of G street high into the air, their veils surrounded by an angry horde of economists as they shake a golden stream of data sets and concept papers onto a waiting slab of giant toast.
Then, at least, I can rest.
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