Don’t get me wrong, I managed to accomplish a lot of things. We are talking about a whole year here. But in comparison to what I have left, it’s like I was on vacation.
The problem is, I schedule about thirty hours of work for every day. And, as you may know, there are currently only twenty-four hours in each of them. At least that’s what I’m told. Seems like it’s a lot less. And every year it gets worse. Drastically worse. If things keep progressing at this rate, by the time I’m sixty, there’ll only be about two hours in the day. And I’ll still have thirty hours of work to do in each one.
Maybe I need a time machine to slow things down a bit. If I could set it to give me thirty-six hours a day, that should do it. It might even provide me with a little time to sleep! On second thought, that probably wouldn’t work—I’d just come up with more things I wanted to do. And the next year we’d be revisiting the same issue—all the things I didn’t get done.
Perhaps a more viable solution would be to consult all those people who spend their entire day and night protesting everything under the sun. They seem to have a lot of free time. Would it be possible to borrow some of theirs? Or maybe all of it? After all, they’re apparently not using it.
Okay, back to reality. While it would be nice to find a few extra hours, unless some Einstein figures out how time being relative can actually help me, it’s never going to change. I’m stuck with a mere twenty-four hours in the day that fly by.
People tell me I should relax, not try to take on so many projects. (Hello? Like that would work! I’d get even less done). Quite often I’m advised to slow down, take it easy, or just stop. I’d have more time, they say. Yeah, right! I can’t do that—before you know it, another year will be gone!
Happy New Year!
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