I am not sure how it happened — maybe I was distracted by tracking my billable minutes. Or maybe I was daydreaming about winning the lottery. But as soon as my inbox started filling up with peppy messages titled “Get Ready!” and “Here They Come!” I knew it had snuck up on me: Summer Camp Time.
Really, I should have noticed the signs sooner: the extra cleaning crews polishing the marble and dusting the art collection, the guys pulling the red carpet out of storage, the flurry to sweep the last remnants of dearly departed Cogs from vacant offices so that the space can be readied for new — albeit temporary — occupants.
