There’s all these platitudes about time – use your time wisely; time is only a delusion of artificially imposed measurements so our pathetic brains can try to comprehend it; we only need to decide what to do with the time given to us; time …
I could go on, but that would take time.
The last few weeks, time has not been something I could say that I own. My computer contracted a virus – not just any virus. No, no. A virus that nailed the registry and then tried to call out to another site to download a crypto-locker. “Ransom-ware” for those of you who don’t know. The only thing that saved me was the way my husband has our LAN set up (and multiple backups that aren’t on the laptop). But I still couldn’t use my laptop because the registry was corrupted. It took my husband – a computer security professional – a week to research the virus (apparently obscure), find a solution that didn’t involve blowing up my laptop (even harder because of the virus’ obscurity), and install even more virus detection and destroy software (of which there are apparently only 3 in existence that even address that virus and it’s brethren in particular).
A week in which I spent working on other things around the house. You would think that would buy me something – let me get ahead on my other job as a SAHM, right? Knock out a few projects, get some maintenance done, maybe some laundry…
Nope. Well, I did do those things, but not nearly enough, it would seem.
The week after I spent playing catch-up on email, making appointments, waiting for various professionals (plumber, electrician, etc) to come fix stuff, more outdoor maintenance, my knees are starting to hurt all the time now and so on.
This week, more of the same. Cars to take in to be RE-EVALUATED by the shop to determine if they can fix it within the estimate value the insurance company set, homework, dance class, boy scouts, boy scout homework, playing referee with the husband on the phone because he doesn’t want to hear that the hail damage can’t be fixed for less than $2k on his truck, and for some reason I was stupid enough to say “I’ll step up as Archery Captain because I feel responsible for that office,” a day off school, Halloween decorating so the kids will stop whinging about it, work on the kids’ gifts for Christmas on their day off, a yard to mow and flu shots. Oh, and laundry. I gotta do that, too. The sheets are beginning to gain sentience.
Next week isn’t looking so great either. The house really should be cleaned. Not a deep clean, mind you, but at least an attempt to corral the funkiness. Then there’s another 2 claims that have to be address with insurance, tires to get rotated, and I think there’s another appointment next week? Two? Something like that. Should I schedule a doctor’s appointment for my knees or wait it out another month to see if they improve?
Getting up early hasn’t worked out so well. This morning I was so disoriented – at 630 am – I couldn’t remember what “Wednesday” meant. Do the kids go to school on Wednesdays? When is “Wednesday” in the week? Am I supposed to get up or can I sleep in on Wednesdays? I went to bed at 11pm, mind you. Late, but not that late.
If I stay up too late, I can’t function within societal norms the next morning (for some reason, CPS gets pissy when your kids miss too much school). If I get up early, I just hate life in general. The schedules I keep setting keep getting run over and sent into the shredder.
I don’t understand how other people do it. I don’t understand how they can set a schedule and stick with it. How do their lives not get mucked up by life? How do they manage to make their time count when every second is devoted to just keeping your head above water?
Prioritze? Delegate? It’s hard when you have your goals staring at you on the one hand and a sniffling child needing help with their homework in a house the needs cleaning/repairs on the other while you’re literally the only available adult 70% of the time. JesusIshtarandBuddha how do single moms do it with a job thrown in to boot?
I always thought turning 40 would be just another number for me. And it was, really – the day passed unremarked. I’d actually forgotten it was my birthday until the kids presented me with handmade cards because Daddy told them it was my birthday. But lately, I seem to be deteriorating physically, and not in ways I can do much about. Which, of course, only makes me more panicked about time.
Some days, it just feels like there isn’t enough time.
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