At work the other day, I was defending my deep-held belief that work should not be taken home. Rather than take work home, I always prefer to stay late or come early. When I take work home, I end up not getting it done anyway, but it sits there and makes me feel guilty.
I declared, boldly, that my apartment was a "temple of not doing anything." This struck me as somehow profound or useful as a sort of shorthand for some philosophy or way-of-life. So here I will memorialize the concept.
[daily log: walking 5.5 km]
Haven’t the great majority of your blogposts been written in the Temple of Not Doing Anything?
Hmm. That’s something, true. Official temple doctrine, however, defines that sort of something as not anything.