I don’t always use my time well. (“Really, Country Mouse?” you all chorus in my head, you unbelievers. “We never would have guessed that.”) If I could use my time more efficiently, I could certainly achieve much more.
But then, couldn’t everyone? Yes, as a matter of fact, at least in theory. No one makes 100% efficient use of their time. And so, while there are plenty of ways I’d like to improve my use of time, I’m okay with the way I use my time for now. I have finally, after a good 10 years, stopped beating myself up for the inefficiencies that result simply from being human. (Not to mention the ironic inefficiencies that result from said self-inflicted beratings.)
So, to the question. Where does my time go? It goes to job hunting and essay-writing. It goes to wilfing around while I try to coax my memory into conjuring up the subject I meant to search for. It goes to playing with my son and taking him to therapy appointments. It goes to running needed errands, and corresponding with Mr. X to work out the details of Acorn’s summer visitation. It goes to tidying again and again in rooms that will never stay tidy without a bit of underlying organization. It goes to chatting with my parents and playing games with my grandfather. It goes to grocery shopping and trying to create healthful meals for everyone. It goes to reading books and making things.
None of these, in themselves are bad things (except maybe the lack of organization). It’s a matter of keeping things in balance, getting done what needs to be done without getting bogged down in the details. The details have always been my downfall.