How I get things done

I'm taking a brief break from report writing. This is a "working" weekend as I try to catch up with looming deadlines and an overwhelming "to do" list.  I've already had to physically remove myself from my house to a place with less distractions and free internet: Starbucks.  Ahh, all of the comforts of home (comfortable chair, hot coffee, and air conditioning to keep me awake) are provided here.  One would think that this hustling hub of activity might deter concentrated work efforts; people walking in and out, "GRANDE LOW FAT, SOY LATTE" being shouted at regular intervals, music blaring at high enough decibels that even grandma can't help but hear it, the harsh and loud scraping of chair legs on floor tile, and the occasional boisterous laughing from someone else who has found refuge at this safe haven. But actually, there are just enough noises and distractions to be able to tune them out completely as they morph and blend into one continual loud din.  Everything except the music.

I actually wish they had a playlist you could tap into while listening to these tunes. I love hearing new artists; but if I jumped up to ask who is playing every time I heard something new, I'd never get anything done.

In a perfect world, Starbucks would offer intravenous solutions of lattes for regulars who camp here. Ideally it would be a slow-drip solution from an insulated bag, mounted on a rolling hanger for ease during those inconvenient bathroom breaks. We'd all shuffle around in here like escapees from the local hospital ward for caffeine addicts. Productivity would be very high, but the down side would be that combined nervous energy might reach a critical level resulting in internet overload and a long queue to the restroom.

As I casually observe my fellow occupants, one thing is startling clear; MacBooks are definitely in the majority. MacBooks, and iPhones. Either we are an incredibly "chic" and tech-saavy group, or only the cool kids hang at Starbucks. Except the lady next to me. She does have an iPhone but she keeps jumping up and accosting hard-working fellow escapees, I mean Sunday workers, asking for help with various applications that she has somehow miraculously put onto her phone. I am keeping my head down and avoiding eye-contact.

Well, back to the "grind" (pun intended): spreadsheets, reports and another cup of coffee.