Yoga, But Make It Capitalism.
Time... Is my currency. And I never feel like I have enough. It slips through my fingers like it has somewhere better to be, so I have built a life designed to protect it. Optimize it. Hoard it like a dragon with a minimalist streak. Mostly. (We will not discuss my recurring delusion of "just five more minutes to analyze this," which somehow transforms 4pm 4:45pm at the end of a work day.) I have a top-notch gym I have built in my house. I have a pool. I have a sauna. A cozy television room. An office designed for deep focus. I even own absurdly good coffee and espresso machines so I never need to leave for caffeine, even though there is a cafe five minutes away. I go maybe once a week now. A dramatic lifestyle shift from my forner big-city self, who treated coffee shops like field offices. I am selective with my social life. That part isn't new. As a life-long introvert, human interaction has always been energizing in theory and depleting in practice. And ...
