The side hustle.
Blah, blah, blah, Jen-Luc, blah, blah, capitalism, blah blah, memory, blah, blah.
These are the notes that I uploaded to the cloud on the wakes my way home from my day's outing.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. This morning, as per usual on Saturdays, Jen-Luc and I went to the local, across the metropolis, adaptive gym, where I proceeded to use the weight machines Jen-Luc, my Congolese caregiver, works at a different house, but he takes me to support groups and concomitant events, schedules permitting; however, the main company, the umbrella company of the houses, is quite accommodating. He is, in all seriousness, doing it as a side hustle. Also, on my weekly excursion, I stop by the store and acquire supplies of which I am running low.
This is only possible because of the power of capitalism, which made the internet and mobile phone usage ubiquitous. And allows him to exchange his free time for my money. A veritable win-win. We both come out ahead; he exchanges his free time for my money. He values my money more than he values his time; I value his time more than I value my money. Winner, winner, chicken dinner.
I wouldn't be able to have held these thoughts in my head, gone about the daily routine, and then have been able to cogently codify my meandering missive. All thanks to modern human magic. Magic simply being heretofore unknown science. Hey, it's with what she blinded Thomas Dolby. Science.
I compose my missives better on my Chromebook than on my Android, but my phone is more portable.