Semi-Daily Scribbles

It was Ted's dream to buy an island. It didn't have to be big, and he didn't need a public market on the corner to survive, but potable water and a few trees were essential. Ted was an avid angler, so the thought of fish on the menu most days didn't faze him in the least. He wanted seclusion, but didn't want to travel to the ends of the earth to reach his home away from home. After all, he had to have a few friends drop in, from time to time, to tell him how relaxed he looked. It was hard relaxing at the office. His volatile boss made sure Ted never had a clear understanding of his function in the machine. Money needed to be made, and it was definitely being made, but where was it going? Ted didn't know, and no one could answer the question on the few occasions he dared to ask. Ted liked to think every time he moved columns around on his spreadsheet, he was helping someone achieve his dream. Ted tried not to think about how many spreadsheets he'd need to populate before his own dream materialized from out of the roiling blue depths.