From Fingers, Fortune

I type. I type fast. Somewhere around 120 to 130 words per minute. It’s a gift and a curse. Lately, because of my intense love of money (or is it.....yes, it's the intense love of my college-aged son), I have been typing transcripts for a court reporter in my home. So....I work 8 to 5...where I also type a good part of the day....I head home for lunch so I can get in a few more pages of typing....I go home after work and type some more....until around 8:00 p.m. At that point, I’m ready for some serious relaxing. But I do wonder.....how can the bones in my butt, a butt so well cushioned, hurt so much from sitting?
I’d like to go away. I’d like to go to Bora Bora in the South Pacific and stay in one of those over-the-water huts. I’d like to have a two-foot straw and a bucket of rum punch at my side and think of absolutely nothing but the extreme present. Just swim, snorkel, soak up the sun, eat, drink, sleep and then repeat at least five or six times. Alone. Completely alone.