March 8, 1987
“This is a BAD day for you not to be at Broderbund, believe me. ‘Bye.”
Not the message you want to find on your answering machine when you get home at 5 p.m. after having taken the day off to play hookey and explore Mt. Tam.
I called Corey back. He told me we’d been evicted from our office and our stuff transferred to the dingy, unpainted, windowless attic of 47 Paul Drive. Corey was at the bottom of the deepest depression I’d ever seen him, and was ready to move back home.
Tomi had a plan. “You’ve got to get the small room,” she said. “It’s got windows and ventilation. It’ll be much better.”
“Corey said he already asked Adaire about that and she said…”
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law. If I were you, I’d go into work early tomorrow morning and move both your desks and all your stuff into that room.”
I called Corey back and told him the plan. He was terrified, but we did it that night, feeling like a pair of burglars.
