I recently decided not to pursue a certain course of action in my personal life because I didn’t have the time, and a close friend commented that it was because I didn’t want to. Not wanting to was 1% of my decision and not the lynchpin either; 99% was not having the time–time may be elastic but my schedule is not. My best friend commented her life is “densely packed”–yep; that’s it exactly. My daily life is “densely packed” like a shelf with too many objects on it. Add one more thing and something falls off the edge. C’est la vie.
Far too much of my time is spent on the daily commute, hamster wheel + cage, and frankly it pisses me off. But you do what you must, and one day soon things will be different. What little time I have left over minus the zombie run and the day job is already spent–I spend it writing and/or pursuing writing and the things that go along with writing plus the weekly mundanities: groceries, laundry, putting gas in the car, gym, meetings, cleaning the house before it becomes a science project, buying cat food, miscellaneous errands, dealing with stuff that goes wrong, remembering I have to eat, and on and on. Somewhere in all that you must squeeze in laughter and entertainment or the hair turns gray and the key to the hamster cage disappears.
Saturday vanished as usual in a puff of roadrunner dust, and I’ve been up and running about since 6 a.m. this morning–did the laundry, got the Christmas tree finally packed away into my storage, brought up two boxes of old fiction folders to go through, went grocery shopping and ran errands, bought more cat food, reminded myself I still need to get Junior (my Toyota Yaris) repaired–that’s going to be real inconvenient–and now it’s nearly time to work on the urban fantasy, 1 to 5, and after that I’m making beouf bourguignon for dinner tonight and lunch during the week, and then, before bed time, read more of Boneshaker. And oh yeah, Junior needs gas.