Killing Time

So far, the most surprising thing about full-time work is how short the evenings feel. It's summer, and the daylight lasts forever, but each day after work I'm surprised by how quickly the clock hands spin from 5:00 p.m. to my bedtime. I want to tell them, Take it easy, guys! It isn't a race to 11:30, you know!

If I get, say, six hours of free time each evening, I spend an hour eating out or making/eating/cleaning up my own dinner. On average, I spend another hour paying bills, cleaning, running to the grocery store, setting up my apartment, etc.--doing all of that responsible stuff adults have to do. After that, I spend another half hour on play time with Willa and another half hour for making tomorrow's lunch and getting ready for bed.

If I'm lucky, that leaves me with three hours for hanging out with Charlie, going downtown with friends, calling friends on the phone, reading, writing, blogging, baking, planning vacations, checking Facebook, and renting and watching movies. Three hours sounds like a lot of time, but it sure doesn't feel like it when there's so much I want to do! And if I'm not careful, a whole evening will sneak away from me in a rush of shopping and chores; I'll be left holding a few Wal-Mart sacks, a ball of dirty dish towels, a glass of wine, and a very strong urge to pass out on the couch!

But this time crunch has helped me prioritize my life and avoid time-sucking habits. It's made me glad that I didn't sign up for cable; I don't feel like I have hours to spend with Bravo and Lifetime and VHI each week. I also spend less time on the Internet, which is bad for blogging but great for avoiding Twitter and mindless Amazon browsing.

When I was unemployed last year, I killed time. My biggest challenge was to fritter away my hours without frittering away my money. I resented my boredom. But now I feel more grateful for my leisure time, for every bike ride and long walk and book chapter. I appreciate spending time with people I care about and those half hours when my kitty crawls into my lap and sleeps. Staying up past midnight on Friday nights feels like a huge treat, as does greasing up my baking pan for a batch of cookies.

I'm especially fond of the feeling I get when I walk home right after work: I feel like a kid being let out of school for the summer because that evening time is mine, truly mine. I've earned it. There's no homework to do, no resumes to tweak, no deadline waiting in the wings. There's just my apartment, my people, my life.