Time started to warp in the most unbelievable ways when I finally worked full time on the business. Days melded into nights, and weekends didn't mean anything other than my friends inviting me for brunch. I'd wake up and pull my laptop into bed to start working, and fall asleep with my laptop on my chest.
My new relationship with time and money
One of those mornings I'd pulled my laptop into bed, I sat in a white Bonds men's singlet and undies, my hair in a messy bun (and I don't mean the chic type of messy bun). I was totally engaged with what I was doing — so much so that I'd forgotten to eat breakfast, move from bed or notice that two hours had passed by. All of a sudden I heard the distinctive Skype ringtone — it was an incoming video call that I had completely forgotten about. I answered on audio and started the call. We didn't really need video for this call; surely we'd just get into the discussion. I thought I'd gotten away with it until the other side said, ‘Jodie — we can't see you'.
‘Oh, really? Let me check …,' I said, frantically pretending to press keys on my keyboard to ‘fix' it. ‘How about now?'
‘No, still can't see you.'
Flustered, I tried to deflect it: ‘Ah, look, I'm not sure what's happening. Let's just continue without it.'
Luckily they dropped it and we moved on with the meeting.
From that day onward, I added an alarm to my calendar invites to warn me about meetings ten minutes in advance.
Time felt sort of … liquid. I had so much ...