I’ve been moving to a new residence and have not been pulling the weeds in my little Internet yard here so I’ll have to add pics of the new place and do some more updating this weekend if I get settled.

Here’s something I’ve been thinking about. When I was a kid I used to sit in my little chair-attached-to-the-desk in school and think about what I would do at 3:30pm when I got home. Maybe I’d take my bike to the lot across the street and jump some dirt mounds or throw pinecones at the neighbors. Every day was a new day of freedom and my free time came to me in terms of ‘afternoons’:

“I wonder what I’m going to do this afternoon when school gets out.”

As I grew older, I got into sports and my afternoons became non-existent. Football practice in fall, wrestling practice in winter, workout in the off-season, do homework every night. Time was parsed out in ‘weekends’ and I’d ask myself:

“Self, I wonder what you’re going to do this weekend”.

As I learned the way the world works in college, time started to take on a whole new meaning. Afternoons were a time to nap instead of actually ‘doing’ something. I was maturing. My thoughts were becoming more lucid. I was more astute, my conversations more concise. I became more analytical. I was much smarter at this point in my life than ever before. And time was measured in ‘hangovers’:

“Why did I pass out face down in the toilet? At a truck stop? Where are my pants?”

As worldly as I had become in college, nothing really compared to making my own money and taking my act on the road. Why just have a hangover 3 or 4 nights a week? EFFICIENCY! That was the key. Boston. Miami. Las Vegas. Chicago. San Diego. Salt Lake City. Las Vegas. Las Vegas. I was released into the wild with a company-paid airline ticket and a daily stipend. Free time was measured in ‘frequent-flyer binges’:

“SHIT! I’m going to miss my plane! Lady, wake up and get out! What? Oh yeah. Will you take a check?”

Now here I am. Tech boom? Come and gone. IPO? Extinct. 401(k)? HA. Hangovers? They’re still around, but they come much less frequently now. Those were great years, but now I’ve been thrust back into reality and my time is measured in the worst way possible. My free time is now measured in terms of ‘paychecks and bills’:

“Hey guys. I don’t think I can make it. I’m running low on cash because I had the stomach flu last week and now my water and sewer bill is astronomical. Maybe next time.”

I am going to rectify this situation soon. As for my free time, it will soon be measured in ‘annual vacations’, ‘retirement parties’ then ‘trips to the bathroom’ at this rate.

Share This