Is there really such a thing as a waste of time?

It has taken me 41 years to admit to myself that I can never get everything accomplished that I need to get accomplished in any given day, week, month, or year...or lifetime, for that matter. So my only last resort is to let go and relax. I don't enjoy task management because I'm a neat freak whose goal is to keep everything in order at all times. I enjoy task management because I know time is finite and I don't want to waste it all getting stuff done.

However, because I'm a busy individual with a plethora of interests, I find myself more often over than under scheduled. And with work, children, friends being far more vocal advocates for my time and attention - it's often difficult to advocate for myself and physical/mental/emotional down time. Time for reading. Time for art. Time to take a nap, or a walk, or a swim, or a trip to the coffee shop.

Let me advocate for that for you. It's important. It's important to take time away from work, kids, friends, family, obligations and do the things that make you happy. If you are lucky enough to be able to schedule that time...I recommend you do so. If you have only minutes a day that you can check out...I've been there. I well remember a time that a shower was my sanctuary, if I could only manage to take one that day! Keep it in mind. You will one day have the time. And when you do, make sure you set it aside.

I thought I was going to write about rewards today, but as my time without the children in the house winds down, I've been reflecting on how I've spent my time and whether or not I've wasted time. And then I go all punkrockzen and say "Is there really such a thing as a waste of time?" Because I have spent my "extra" time doing so much thinking and writing and playing and planning and creating. I suppose I didn't run naked through the house or throw a crazy drug party or travel around the world or even, for that matter, do any of the overambitious road trips I had planned to do, and I suppose my bedroom is just as messy as it was when the guys left a month ago, and I suppose I didn't eat homecooked meals and take the bus to work every day while they were gone, but I feel good. I feel solid. I feel refreshed. And, just as I predicted, now that I'm finally done mourning their absence...they're coming home. And that's just fine with me.