The best intentions sometimes flounder through lack of time. The trouble is I’ve come to realise the only person who values my time is me. Perhaps that seems a silly conclusion to reach at my age but I don’t think it’s been quite so invasive until recently.
To give an example, last Monday I was working on a short story I wanted to enter into a competition. Time, always short, seemed to disappear like a black hole before I reached that critical point when the story appears (at least to me) ‘finished’. I’d just put the editing aside to make dinner when a member of the family rang needing my help, urgently. That was a week ago. I haven’t returned to the editing since. A calamity of minor disasters compounded all my writerly ambitions.
Now there are some things impossible to counter, such as members of staff being sick while others are taking their holidays. I have to cover their time at work, which might be unexpected but remains essentially unavoidable (after all it’s a family business and money pays the bills, not my writing). However, what really makes me mad is someone asking me to go somewhere, or to help with something, then not turning up at the allocated time. I hang around ‘in waiting’ but if I attempt do anything constructive, such as writing, it’s hard to concentrate because I’m expecting to break off at every minute. It isn’t that the time is lost but the quality is cheated.
Anyway this seems to be happening far more frequently of late so I decided to work out just how much time I spend ‘in waiting’ and was horrified to discover it amounted to almost eight hours last week – that’s a full day wasted. And I didn’t count everything, like that gap between putting the dinner on to cook and waiting for it to finish….or any of the other mindless jobs that the routine of life requires of us.
Time is an asset that can’t be replaced. Once spent it’s gone. And choosing how I spend my time seems to be down to me – except I’ve never learnt to say ‘no’ when someone needs me. And I’ve missed the closing date for that short story.