On February 25th, 2010, as I fell asleep, inspiration struck.
A hilarious tweet—one so sublime that like a fine wine it needed to be properly aged and then only brought out for a special occassion, shared amongst family and friends.
The stuff of legend.
Book offers would follow.
I would be flown via private jet to the most exclusive dinner parties and paid ridiculous speaking fees for its utterance.
But I was fading fast. The day had been quite exhausting, and I possessed neither the requisite will nor the strength to save the tweet in its entirety.
Glancing to my right, I was crestfallen to find I had not followed my routine, perhaps due to my weariness, and my moleskine and G2 0.38mm retractable pen were not there.
Perhaps they were across the room in my pants pocket, but my legs had already bid adieu to the day and left strict instructions that they not be disturbed. They were, if you will, restful legs.
My iPhone! “Of course”, I thought, “this is the raison d’être of Birdhouse!”.
As I waited for the woundrous aviary to take metaphorical flight, I started nodding off.
I’d never be able to type the entire tweet. I’d have to leave myself a shorthand note—a message seed in a bottle.
Tap, tap, tap…
Those should do it. After all, I’d already thought of the tweet. Those three words would be more than enough to bring it forth, fully formed, from my forehead in the morning.
And well they might have been, had I not waited a week to launch Birdhouse again.
