ceo of the (clo)r-o-x
The back of my throat is scratchy dry. My companions, Windex, Mrs. Meyers and Shout! are running low.
Year 1, Year 2, Year 5. Cleaning floors, wiping down cabinets, scrubbing the corner grease. Sprinting to the post office, filing tedious paperwork, running deliveries to far flung customers out in Manhattan. Brewing, kegging, cleaning. Talking to store buyers, talking to customers, making new customers. Emails! And cleaning.
Why the tedious laundry list? Mrs. Meyers, and all the small things, are crucial to building Nomad. It's easier to build bolt-on, pre-fabricated Ikea style. You get a sturdier ship by building every piece yourself, from the inside out -- the know-how, the people, the culture. (For a real-life illustration of what something built from the outside in looks like, visit the Brandeis castle.) How can I steer a ship in Year 5 if it's off course in Year 1? How can the ship be on course if the decks aren't clean? What good is a daily bottom line update without a daily walking of the terroir? An old pair of Asics teaches a lot more than any pair of leather shoes.
I didn't clean once at Oxford. Our college provided daily maid service. The intended lesson was that we should spend every waking moment studying. The lesson derived was that we were above that work. Luckily we did plenty of cleaning at Brandeis.
Sweat over suits. I'm off to fall asleep on a couch of unknown provenance.