Inefficiency

I recall a friend who retired 20 years ago, laughing at himself about how easy it was to waste time. "I get up to lunchtime," he related "and I've been busy all morning.  But when I come to list what I've actually gotten done, I find that I only went downtown and put gas in the car.  Took up my whole morning."

I suspected even then he might be right.  I have been erratic about efficiency all my life, able to work magic in ridiculously short periods, then just kind of wander around until it's too dark to mow the lawn. I have actually gotten much better at organising myself rather than relying on deadlines that others have put on me in these last 20 months of semi-retirement.

Yet it is still nothing like what it was.  I got home early, and was to cook dinner.  A granddaughter was slated to come over at 5:45. There were two calls to make, a little email correspondence, some eyedrops to put in. I sailed through it briskly, proud of steps I eliminated by combining small tasks. It then occurred to me that I used to do all this, plus supervise two children changing and starting homework, get some house task such as the lawn or laundry done, read an open book in spurts and duck out for a cigarette every half-hour.