I don't have kids, I'm not in school anymore, I don't even have a long commute to and from work each day, so I'm pretty sure I don't have a solid excuse like other people might. But because I have officially submersed myself into what I refer to as 'adulthood' (working full time and maintaining a high standard of my home environment and personal life) over the past few years, I can't remember the last time I've had time to "spare".
Why is this, you ask? I'm what they call a "planner": By definition I am a "deviser", a "contriver". I like to plan to get things done, mostly by making lists. It's always go-go-go! Chores, itineraries, groceries, birthdays, errands, happy hours, you name it! The best part is that unlike most people that are known for making lists, I actually complete them. I've referred to my organizational therapy before by stating that "Busy is Fun!!". Although this is still true, I'm beginning to feel interested in the meaning of spare time. And because I'm not so familiar with what spare time feels like, I don't realize I have it until it's already gone... except for this past Sunday.
After making a run to TacoDeli (where I had the pleasure of experiencing the famous Mashed Potato, Egg & Cheese breakfast taco with their signature Dona sauce for the first time) it was off to the pool. Some might argue that pool time is spare time, but not in my book. My visits to the pool are a labor of love that includes squaring up to the sun in such a way that produces an even tan while browsing through one of my multiple magazines that have accumulated in my lack of spare time. Exhibit A: The stack that has been moved out of site into a basket on a shelf because I realize I can't get to them before my "clean freak" comes out and wants the counters cleared.
These magazines (and some books, as I have also noted before) make their way into my apartment and never seem to make their way out - mainly because I don't immediately read them. Even when I do get to the last page I feel obligated to keep them because of the wealth of information found on their pages... recipes and workout tips, new uses for old things, it's endless! I realize I'm beginning to sound like a hoarder, to which I will simply defend with "No". Have you ever read Real Simple Magazine? It's decidedly the best one out there. Oh, to write for them one day would be a dream...
Back to reality where the stacks of magazines await that mysterious "spare time": After the pool was going to be a Racquetball re-match, a game which I've recently learned to play and that was downright robbed from me a few nights before. I was up a whopping 13 to 4, just two points away from victory and somehow I ended up losing 16-14. I'll blame it on my lack of experience, given that I only learned to play about 6 weeks ago and T, my arch-nemesis, has been playing since he was a kid.
The sweaty walk back from the pool proved to be too much for the both of us, and as the blazing afternoon sun pushed the thermometer to yet another triple digit hell hole, we decided to stay inside. Movie time! Now, if I told you that the last time I remember actually choosing to get into bed on a Sunday afternoon and watch a movie while (gasp!) my lists beckon me from the other room was about 3 years ago, would you believe me? Yes, it's true.
At first I felt anxious, like I was making an irresponsible decision. Why would I waste my afternoon doing "nothing" while there was so much left to do? The chores started swirling in my head: you could empty the dishwasher, do a load of laundry, change the kitty litter, dust! And that's when it hit me: "Nothing" should be on my list. "Nothing" is relaxing, rejuvenating, pure repair... "nothing", I realized, transformed into "spare time" and it was all-of-the-sudden upon me. The feeling of "go-go-go" shouldn't lead to exhaustion, it should be inspiring. And for me it usually is - but thanks to T's habit of afternoon naps, I was (gently) forced to join his slow paced break from my busy world. Boo-hoo, right?
I'll admit that I didn't quite do "nothing". Afterall, I wasn't sleepy and I had already seen the movie that was playing. Nonetheless, I knew taking some time away from my normal routine would be a good thing, so I crawled into bed anyway. I settled in and an overwhelming feeling of "what do I do now?" washed over me. Then I looked to my nightstand where my TV remotes sit. Instead of on the actual table they're elevated by, you guessed it, magazines and books... just waiting to be read. They've been there for a few months now since the idea is to read them as I'm going to sleep at night; however as most of you have probably heard me say more than once, I get to bed too late as it is even without reading.
"A-ha! Real Simple is is!" The revelation that I could use this quiet time in bed to make some progress on my magazines was exciting. I smiled as I opened the first one, engaging in the beautiful photographs, clever recipes and finally reading the articles I tagged so long ago. It was like I was visiting an old friend and catching up on life. Over an hour passed by and I felt amazing. I thought to myself, "Why don't I do this more often?"
So that's where we are: I'm committing to my magazines. By doing this, I'm committing to myself. And although there is still a large stack of them in that basket I can't see, I like to think that it serves as a treasure chest of relaxation from which I can pluck some "spare time" whenever I want... I guess I better put it on my list.
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