Worth My Time

Sometimes when I'm riding to work I think about how long it takes me. Say thirty-five minutes there, thirty-five minutes back. Some days I only do a four-hour shift. Four hours for an hour travelling time. Is that worth it?

The other day we had a staff meeting. Or, more accurately, "staff meeting." It turned out that an hour and a half of the three hour "meeting" was us doing normal work. When you combine that with the fact that only half the staff were actually there, my crazy-annoying cough that still hasn't gone away, and the fact that I had a not-yet-finished presentation to do at uni the next day, I'm thinking that no, an hour's ride (at night, in fricking freezing temperatures) was not worth it.

It's going to take me approximately a bajillion years to get to San Francisco from Adelaide. In actual Earthling time, that equals about sixteen hours. Bor-ring. Is more than thirty hours flying time worth twenty days of BlogHering, drinking, touristing, meeting, and summering?

HELL YEAH.