How is it that there never seem to be enough hours in a day?
It’s Sunday evening and I have to wonder where the weekend went and what I actually did? More so: did I do what I wanted to do?
Well, some of it, yes. But enough of it still remains on my to do list to leave me feel frustrated and somehow unaccomplished.
I’m still settling into my new place, the room that I am renting. It is partly furnished, but because most of the space had been taken up by a queen sized bed until yesterday, there wasn’t much beside a bedside table and a wardrobe in it. Not much room to fill for me with myself, my own things, to make it feel like home.
I am getting there, but only slowly and it feels tedious. Maybe I am just impatient. I don’t feel the need to decorate the space about me, but a rug on the floor would be nice, enough hooks to hang my jackets, a small desk maybe and a chair. A chest of drawers would be an added bonus for more room to put my things away. I don’t want to feel like a guest or a traveller anymore.
I may not know how long I will stay here, but I still want it to feel like home.
Now, what has that got to do with my initial question? I went off on a bit of tangent there, I admit. But, part of my weekend was spent with “home improvement” and it doesn’t much feel like it. I got a single bed now, which suits my current needs much better.
Then there is a lot of empty space all of a sudden and I haven’t managed to fill it up. Come payday next Friday that should be somewhat rectified.
So, time spent, but not as well as I would’ve hoped.
I have also been in London yesterday, which was somewhat tedious. The weekend was quite beautiful with a lot of sun, the first for some time. Tons of people flocked into the city, of course. If you manage to stay away from the crowded areas, London can be very enjoyable. If the errands you’re running lead you to Oxford Street, you’d rather wish you were somewhere else quite soon.
The crowds are staggering and how anyone can enjoy doing their shopping like that is utterly beyond me.
As such the trip felt uncomfortable and mostly like a bit of a waste of time.
I did my grocery shopping, but not all if it. I had to rush it and couldn’t take my time, because there was so much else to do. Laundry, cleaning, research, being sociable with my house mates, reading, sleeping, showering, relaxing, cooking, eating.
How do we never have enough hours in a day? I could easily fill up 30 hours with all the things I want to do and the rest that I need to do. Where possible I do two things at once, but with some things it isn’t possible, because they require my full attention, like writing or reading.
Is there something wrong with how I manage my time? Do I waste too much of it? I don’t know and generally don’t think so. But sometimes it is easy to get side tracked and something remains undone even though you really, really wanted to do it. You just ran out of time and from being so busy the whole time, you get tired and need to sleep right when you might’ve had the time do what you’ve been putting off.
It’s, of course, worse during the week, because you have to be at work for eight hours. You have to get to work and home, which might each take up and hour as well, that means ten hours are gone already. If you get to sleep for eight hours, you’ve got about six hours of usable time and that’s considering the best case scenario. Usually it’s less than that.
Think of all the things you do after work, on the way home and once you are home. If you were to list all those things, you’d be quite amazed at how you managed to get them done in that time. And there will always be more that you could’ve done and meant to do or wanted to do.
24 hours just isn’t enough.
Unless, of course, you don’t have to spend eight hours working for somebody else.
I will leave it at that, because going off on that tangent would lead me down a whole different road and it’s getting late. I need to get some more reading in today.