Time Management

 

                  It’s the end of the day again and I am baffled, perplexed and confused—not an unusual state 

for me, but I don’t understand, how did a day pass and I’ve been so busy but done nothing?

            I’ve attacked physical therapy with a vengeance, walked the dogs, did a load of laundry, and ate lunch. I then spent an hour reading—okay—it was Twitter, or whatever they call it now, but still, I read it. I was exhausted after the slog through social media, so a nap was in order. Napping is an excellent use of time I’ve discovered. It should be institutionalized. Why can’t adults bring a nap rug to work? Everyone would awake in a more rested and a much better frame of mind if we were allowed a short nap during the workday. For those who are non-nappers forty-five minutes of quiet time would suffice. That means no screens, no games, no talking.  Shush--don't disturb your neighbor.

            In any case, I was awakened at promptly 3:30 by a cold nose in the face. 3:30 is doggie play time--and don't think for a minute the mutts aren't punctual.  Out to the yard we went, playing fetch, filling the birdfeeders, and repotting a plant. Once playtime was over it was pet chore time. And then it was 5:00 P.M.

           I didn't complete anything on my list, a tally that grows daily. Sometimes I put items on it like "make coffee" just so I can get the buzz that comes from marking something off. Today, I didn’t dust, clean out the refrigerator, or water the flowers—and at this point I am getting impatient with the flowers. Ten years ago, we would have had a couple of frosts that would have cancelled that chore for the season. But thanks to climate change we are headed into the eighties again this weekend. A good hard frost would have killed them off for this year, the flowers and the mosquitoes. While this summer’s crop of biting ariel assault weapons are a bonanza buffet for the bats and some birds, they are also tiny stealth machines that bite so surreptitiously you don’t know it until you begin to itch all over.  Every once in awhile I have to remind myself there is an evolutionary purpose for them, though damned if I know what it is.  Why are gnats not enough. One annoying insect should do it for the nutritional needs of small flying mammals and fluttering feathered dinosaurs, and one that doesn't bite, sting or emit a high pitched whine about the head and ears at that.

            This lack of concrete accomplishment makes me wonder—how did I ever work a full-time job—and as a single parent? How did I get everyone fed and to their evening classes/practices/ and rehearsals?  Which one memorable semester involved no less than 4 activities between 5:30 and 10:00 p.m. and had me driving across town twice in that span of time. When was there time to pay the bills and balance the checking account in between weekend softball trips around the country?  Did I ever clean the house? Who did the laundry?  I probably did both, but have no recollection of doing so. I drove one kid 170 miles round trip once a week so she could be schooled by an elite batting coach, I hauled another around at least three counties for club volleyball—and performed line judging and clock management duties for a game I've yet to understand in all its complexity, and still the groceries were purchased, and somehow, we held it together.

            The last time I checked there are still only 24 hours in a day. I’d never have guessed that 

retirement could take up so much of my time.