So much time and very little to show for it
Suddenly, I have all the time in the world and I’m still not getting anything done.
“Man, if there were only more hours in the day...” used to be one of my favourite excuses, one I used to justify not doing all manner of things. I don’t have time to wash the dishes, fold laundry, plant a garden, bake bread, do more writing, spend time with the kids, organize the family photos, clean the garage, read the stack of books I’ve been meaning to get to.
Now there are enough hours in the day – sometimes too many – and I’m still getting very little done.
It’s a perfect storm of inertness. I’ve taken a buyout from my job and while I still have a few projects to work on, I don’t have the 9-to-5 grind anymore. I was planning to fill a good portion of my free time travelling with friends and family but, well, those plans got wiped out by the pandemic. I’m not complaining, mind you: we are healthy and safe while hundreds of thousands have died.
So now I have a sea of idle days stretching out to the horizon (which has ominous dark clouds on it.)
To be fair, I have gotten some things done. My bread-baking game has moved to the next level. I’ve done some cycling. The garage is moderately organized. The writing I’m required to do under threat of deadline generally gets done. And I’m volunteering a couple of mornings a week.
Spending time with my two teenagers has also been a priority. They are bored and frustrated and in mourning over the things they’ve lost. They’re scared about the future. Simple things like watching bad movies (Scoob is terrible) baking together or bonding over TikTok helps. There is no substitute for time when raising kids and that’s never been more true.
But I like to set goals and look forward to things and both of those seem unspeakably hard right now. Uncertainty tends to lock me in place: if I’m not sure what to do, I often do nothing until a path forward reveals itself. It usually does ... but not always. And with so much uncertainty on so many levels, waiting for all of it to clear up seems impractical. Otherwise, I’ll just move between the couch, my computer, the kitchen and the wine cupboard in an endless loop, forever.
I’m trying to cut myself some slack. Having spent the last 25 years of my working and family life with the pedal to the metaphorical metal, it seems reasonable to take a little time to catch my breath before filling up my days again. And perhaps a new, less frenetic approach wouldn’t be a bad thing.
It’s also reasonable to accept that the pandemic and changes it has wrought have thrown me for a loop — and that’s OK. I’m sure I’ll get my act together — eventually.