When I woke up this morning, I checked my calendar, as is my usual custom, to see what meetings or deadlines I had scheduled. There was just one word for today. “Blog.”

A sense of freedom burst forth, and I felt an immediate rush of relief. Other than writing this blog, which I enjoy, I had no responsibilities for the entire day. Isn’t that what we all work for — a lifetime of retirement Sundays, stretching into the foreseeable future?

And yet, despite being relieved of responsibilities, I felt a twinge of sadness. For years, I’ve defined myself by being productive at “work.” For years I’d been riding the “Productivity Bus”, and it’s been impossible for me to get off. I must have purchased the “eternal” ticket, because twenty-one years ago I passed the age of normal retirement, and today the second oldest person in my company is a quarter of a century younger than I am and won’t catch up to me (in age).  Ever.

But since I’m the founder of my company and set my own work hours, I can write my blog at home.  Even while lying in bed.  And that gives me much of the time-freedom I’ve always treasured.

But a calendar is always a tradeoff. It tells you what you have planned, both your obligations and your social engagements and, hopefully, keeps your appointments from tumbling all over each other. But it also forces you to plan in advance, and it can lock you into specific commitments to avoid two or three lunch dates in the same day. (Unless you are unusually sociable. Or really hungry).

And that reminds me of breakfast, which has lately been semi-instant oatmeal from Trader Joe’s.  I recommend it.

Today, there is time for writing, and a separate time for eating. And a time to reflect and enjoy my sense of freedom.

But I don’t need a calendar to tell me that.

Alan

This is a photo of my favorite chair.  I advise you to never try to sit on it.  It’s a piece of art, but a very uncomfortable chair.

I bought this chair while on a cruise in Alaska.  As best I recall, Daveen politely refused to have it in our home, so it became a temporary resident of my office — for the past twenty-five years.

Lessons learned?

1. When buying furniture or art or other objects to decorate the public areas of our home, it’s better to consult Daveen in advance.
2. Not everyone shares my taste in art. Or chairs.
3. My office is decorated in a jumble of different styles, all of which reflect my eclectic taste.  (Not just gold, gold, gold like the present Oval Office in D.C.)
4. I’m better at buying things than I am at organizing them in any kind of coherent order. Kind of like my shoes at night – which mysteriously turn up in unusual places, although I always find them in the morning – in the bedroom, or bathroom.  Or kitchen.  And even sometimes in the closet.
5. While my organizing style is unreliable, my taste is consistent. I still like the chair.

But we live in a world where we all compare ourselves with others all the time. There is a tale I have shared over the years, which seems particularly relevant to this blog. Years ago, Gina, a dear friend of mine, referred a new investor to me.  The investor visited my offices and reported back to Gina that she wouldn’t invest with me. My office had failed the “Century City Chic” Test.

Three years later Gina mentioned to me that her friend was now REALLY not going to invest with me.

“Why?” I asked.  “Is my office in worse shape now than it was then?”

“No, Alan.  She invested everything she had with her Century City financial advisor.  And he lost it.”

I know I’ve made more than a few poor investment decisions myself, and my fish chair may be one of them. But I also feel uniquely attached to it. This might be the only chair of its kind that exists and, to me, it’s special.

Hmmm, I wonder which one of my children I should leave it to?

And, from an investment point of view… never judge a man by his chair.

Alan

I would have thought, in celebrating my 86th birthday this week, I could easily allow myself the luxury of not being productive for seven days.

And yet, here I am, still producing — in this case my weekly blog.

Habit is first a cobweb, then a cord, and finally a cable.  While I’m sure I could cultivate the habit of not being productive, I’ve actually come to like it.  I enjoy seeing the tangible results of my efforts, and I also like the feeling of having accomplished something.

But I also like to be lazy. I like to spend time in activities that have no value other than my own entertainment.  That’s why I play solitaire on my iPhone (for hours at a time).  In fact, at this very moment I’ve interrupted my leisure time to be productive by writing this blog.

So if I enjoy being lazy, why do I engage in any willful act of productivity at all?  Perhaps a deeper truth is that I use productivity to justify my existence.  All of us must be productive to sustain ourselves.  We work to obtain food and shelter, and there is a special satisfaction from creating something of enduring value.

To summarize – I have many internal debates, and whenever I do I always win (metaphorically).  If I’m considering whether to write my blog, it must be Monday.  If I’m debating whether to play solitaire instead, it must be sometime between Monday afternoon and early the following Monday.  The choice is usually simple, because, as you already know, I respond to deadlines. So, unless I’m close to a deadline, well, solitaire will probably win out.

Fortunately, I enjoy writing my blog, especially once it is done and I can go back to relaxing (until the following week).  And yet, all kidding aside, I find writing to be not only productive, but also fun.  And over time, I’ve managed to create hundreds of blog entries –a nice record of ongoing productivity.

And, best of all, I hope that you are enjoying this blog, and that you are also learning something (that qualifies as being productive).  A twofer!

What could be more productive?

And fun?

Alan