Twenty-two Minutes

Sunsets are deceptive. They conjure up images of serenity and splendor as another day comes to a close. Thoughts turn toward relaxation, bedtime routines and welcomed sleep. But for those of us who surrender quite early, sundown brings on a mild sense of panic: There’s-still-so-much-to-do-but-time-is-running-out races through my head as I mentally organize the tasks left to accomplish. A handful of the seemingly endless chores include lunch packing, dish loading, laundry folding, school reading, teeth brushing, squabble refereeing,  phone-call returning, email sending, and the ever lovely thrice daily dog pooping. And so goes the list.

It’s at this time–at sunset–when I remember that thought-provoking college essay (I believe it was for Princeton, but correct me if I am wrong):

What would you do with an extra hour in the day?

As a high school senior I didn’t have an appreciation for time, or lack thereof. I wish I could tell you that I would have provided an intelligent, creative and profound answer– but I didn’t have it then and I likely don’t have it now.

What I would do with that 25th hour would be to follow the news. I make a minimal effort in that I put the 10 o’clock news on, but I am passed out within minutes. And our weekday mornings are so hurried (also admittedly a bit militant) that we don’t linger over the early news as I would like to if I had my way. Note that I do harbor some bitterness over Ann Curry’s ousting departure from The Today Show and I am silently protesting. As a result I know very little about current affairs either locally or abroad, other than the tidbits I pick up from peeking at gossip sites from time to time. But what good is knowing that Justin Bieber tossed his cookies on stage a few days ago in Arizona when I can’t tell you where the Obama-Romney debate is happening tonight?

It’s time that I emerge from under my rock. It’s time to create extra minutes in my day. When I was little I dreaded long car rides because my father instituted “driver’s choice” to determine what we listened to on the radio or tape cassettes (remember those?).  Somehow it was actually father’s choice, not necessarily driver’s choice, and he opted for 1010 WINS.  I can still hear that irritating promise: You give us twenty-two minutes and we’ll give you the world. Those were some loooonnnnngggg twenty-two minutes. Yet, I now long for those twenty-two minutes.

Funny how age brings about appreciation– I would love for my brain to be filled with all that I need to know in just a fraction of the day. Once I forgive NBC, and also figure out how to operate the DVR, I’ll start recording The Today Show so that sometime during the day I can plug through the highlights.

Then maybe if I could re-write those college essays, I would suggest that I don’t need a whole hour, just twenty-two minutes.

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3 thoughts on “Twenty-two Minutes

    • You will soon see that during each phase of your life you will wish you had a different amount of those extra minutes. Right now you will never have enough of them!

  1. I love this post. Isn’t funny how our sense of time changes so completely with each new phase? 22 minutes used to be less time than I needed to get dressed. Now, I feel like I could fit a lifetime into that many minutes!

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