It’s actually a lot harder on the psyche to be late somewhere. I’d like to think that those of you who already know me hadn’t even noticed my tardiness until reading this. Now that I’ve told all of you this, I’m worsening the reputation I already had. But I do aspire to have a different reputation. Knowing I’ll have an eternity to be immersed in something is a lovely thought.Īs you can see, I am not Type A. That’s precisely why I’ve never had a phone with cell service.Īside from all of the love, beauty, and harp music, my idea of heaven is having no more need for the concept of time. When life is always punctuated by interruption, it begins to make elongated periods of quiet concentration seem like decadent luxuries that simply must be peppered with mindless tasks that require immediate action. Or perhaps it unconsciously stems from a distaste for society’s new norms of constant distraction – emails, texts, messages, and notifications. Having certain hours of the day all to myself that I never had in the past feels sumptuously hedonistic. I still stop all of my projects these days when they get home from school so that they know there is someone in this world who has ample time for them. Sometimes I didn’t even take a minute to brush my own hair. I gave every minute of myself to my young, homeschooling children for thirteen solid years. Perhaps it stems from being a stay-at-home mom for so many years. With only 16 daylight hours, how do I deep-dive into anything for very long?Īccepting that one activity must give way for another is like a silent, sometimes unconscious sadness. I could wallow in five different activities for ten hours apiece, including some cushy transition time between each one. Not for a measly hour in between obligations. Not for twenty minutes before I have to be somewhere. Give me free time, and I want to really settle into an activity. Why? Transitions mean ceasing one thing in favor of beginning another. Just not if my reputation depends on it, apparently. Can I get somewhere on time if my life depends on it? Certainly. Even without a watch, I have a pretty darn good idea how many minutes I am into each hour. Then am I senseless about time? Not at all. Actually, if I’m late, I hate that it communicates a flippant unconcern. Do I care less than I should about common decency toward other people? No. In fact, the more time I have, the more likely I am to be late.ĭo I know how long it takes me to walk or drive most places on the island? Yes. It’s not because I don’t give myself enough time to get somewhere. Sometimes half an hour, when I rationalize that the situation is more flexible. Sometimes five minutes, sometimes fifteen. (Gosh, I wonder how many other qualities I am, only in my head.) We’re all supposed to be prompt individuals, mindful of basic courtesy, right? It’s not something I go around touting rather, I’m a bit ashamed of it. Let’s get to the root of “island time.” I can speak on this topic because I am an expert.
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