It's not that I feel cheated, per se, in the fact that I only have 24 hours in my day, like everyone else. But, seriously - if they're talking about selling carbon credits, can't we at least discuss the option of selling spare time too? I can see it now - special banks and exchanges for you to make deposits and withdrawals of, well... time. Choose increments from 10 minutes (for unexpected bouts of constipation or a bonus game of solitaire) all the way up to one week (helpful for vacationers and college students cramming for those final exams). Everyone's always worried that social security alone is not enough to cover the expenses of seniors. Well - I say, let them sell their extra time! What else are the sleepless hours from 6:00 a.m to 8:00 a.m good for, anyway? Bored teenagers getting into trouble after school? Sell that time and put the money in your college fund! Better yet - plan ahead and invest that time so you won't end up a frazzled home schooling mother of 3 with a part time job and a lobbying addiction that cuts into even her Facebook activities.
Oh, who am I fooling? Even if they did create a Time Exchange Bank it would probably be taxed to the point of being worthless, ultimately costing millions in bail outs and user fees. After a lengthy Congressional Investigation and the involvement of the UN Commission on Banking Practices the whole thing would be shut down, defaulting on time loans left and right. Millions would end up late for work, late on bills, late handing in homework, and with no extra time to see to their stress-induced digestive complaints. I suppose the best answer for those who find themselves short on time is the age-old, tried-and-true, common sense solution of staying up too late every night to get things done. (And you thought I was going to say something about planning ahead and using wise time management techniques. Hah!) After all, why would a candle have two ends if we're not supposed to burn both of them at the same time?
I am a night owl by nature. Even as a kid I never went to bed early. I'm lucky if I've got my teeth brushed by midnight these days. The post -10 p.m. hours are the only time I've got to myself. Much as I love having company while I do dishes (and fold clothes, and make supper, and sweep the floor, and talk on the phone, and take a bath) it is nice every once in a while to have my brain to myself. Today I was typing up an email to send out to hundreds of families about a very important legislative meeting. I was mumbling aloud in order to hear if the email made sense. I had just said, "... meet under the rotunda for lunch..." when I was suddenly assaulted by a barrage of questions.
Five Year Old: Lunch? Did she say lunch? I love lunch!
Three Year Old : Why you say lunch, Mommy? Mommy? Why you say lunch?
Nine Year Old : Yeah, that reminds me. I'm hungry. Can we have noodles for lunch?
That'll teach me to proofread aloud! Befuddled by the confusion, I was compelled to hastily wrap up the email (I'm not entirely sure, but the words hungry and/or mommy might have slipped into it, unbidden) and go make lunch for the girls. Yes, it was noodles. Like someone struggling to rise to consciousness, I am slow to understand and vulnerable to the power of suggestion when I multi-task. I think my children know to wait until the very moment when my eyebrows lower, my lips purse, and I exhale lightly, ready to finally coalesce a brilliant idea I'd been working on for months, before they ask for something.Well, either that, or they wait for when I'm on the phone. That seems to work for them as well.
The net result of all this is that my productivity and focus are not what they could be. I suppose I could send my children off to school each day and really get down to business in my nice, quiet home. Better yet, I could get an office, with my own computer dedicated only to work, its keyboard never covered in anything sticky. I could even have an assistant who would follow me to meetings and carry my file folders, rather than the assistants I have now who follow me to the bathroom carrying broken toys for me to mend. I could enter the world of high finance instead of the world of low-slung diapers; mingle with CEOs instead of mangling PBJs; make my mark instead of cleaning up the marks left by others. But, where would the fun be in any of that?
Evil Knievel didn't jump puddles with a Schwinn, baby, and the Evil Knievel of Scheduling doesn't take the easy way out either. Let 'em have their cubicles and meetings, their secretaries and their powerpoint presentations. I'll take the risky path any day, and love every minute of it. The high yields of happy, healthy children are far more important to me than a safe investment in the status quo. Besides - what else are the hours from 10:00 p.m. to 2:00 a.m. for, anyway? It's not like I can sell that time...
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