If proof were needed that work dominates my life, my wife captured it overnight, recording me speaking in my sleep.
“I don’t know where things are, to be honest,” she heard me mutter aloud. “It’s all messed up.”
Sounds like a fair response to many of the messages I surreptitiously peeped at while verifying there had been no major problems in my absence.
How terrible that my subconscious still mulls over work, even at the end of a week off. I really ought to do something else with my life.
Last modified: 22 September 2024
