It's About Time

Guaranteed To Save Time, Or Your Money Back by Suzanne M. Schweikert M.D. Copyright 2003 All Rights Reserved Comments, thoughts, and personal experiences on time related topics are welcome. Email: Dr.Schweikert@WritersMonthly.com

As I sat at my desk, I became aware of a loud buzzing noise emanating from the bushes down below my home office window. It was not a swarm of Texan Killer Mosquitoes, as I first surmised. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that the two local gardeners (hired by my local condo-land to keep the jungle at bay) had acquired a brand new toy — a leaf blower. All my efforts at thinking outside the box were quickly drowned out by the harsh and brain-numbing sound of this machine. So, I left my desk and wandered into the garage, sadly acknowledging to myself that, if I were ever captured by an enemy and tortured with sound, I would cave in to their demands immediately.

Once in the garage, I discovered that the leaf-blower had already been by, leaving a blanket of finely shredded grass remains, which extended right up to the laundry baskets. Cursing the wonders of technology, I rummaged around for a broom. The one I found had last seen action as a Harry Potter Halloween costume accessory, and still had the words "Nimbus 2000" scotch-taped on its handle. I smiled as I picked up this humble tool, and began to sweep.

Like millions before me, I found that sweeping, like erasing a chalkboard or cleaning a counter, is quite rewarding when there is a noticeable difference after each sweep. As I created interconnecting trails of clean cement between thick pastures of yellow-green dust, I found myself in a pleasant groove, working up a sweat at the same time. While this may not have counted as my aerobic activity for the day, it was clearly an act of physical exertion. By the end, I had seen all four corners of my garage, and even moved a few piles of junk from here to there, which is one step closer to actually throwing something away.

Returning to my desk, I gazed out over the once again peaceful neighborhood, and strained to hear the distant mechanical hum of the machine that had so rudely interrupted my morning’s work. I was tempted to write a letter to the condo-land board, in protest of leaf blowers and everything they stand for. But then, I looked around at all my own time-saving machines. There was the microwave, dishwasher, and yes, the lap top. I felt torn between wanting to sing the praises of manual labor, while knowing damn well that, had I been hired as the gardener of condo-land, I too would have bought a leaf-blower.

So no, I'm not going Amish. I won't be throwing away my washing machine or my cell phone (although I did ditch my pager, which is a story for another day). But I will pose this question: with all of these time-saving machines around us, why do we all feel more stressed for time than ever before? After all, we don’t spend days washing and drying clothes (unless we are obsessive-compulsive about dirt), nor do we spend hours cooking a daily meal. Instead, we look longingly at cultures where people spend time gardening, cooking, and doing other charming household tasks, while we drive to the local Wall Mart to buy yet another guaranteed time-saving device.

Or, we go to the bookstore, where the self-help section is riddled (yes riddled) with advice on how to manage, organize, and super-size your time (I know this because I always seem to end up there, sprawled on the floor, causing other shoppers to hurdle over my pile of reading). However, while these books might promise more time, very few tell you how to make the time you spend on this planet happier, and none actually create more of the stuff. And yet, the schizophrenia of our belief that we can harness time is profound. We work more, to buy more time-saving devices, to save time, so we can work more, to buy… We might do well to realize that time is rather like money; it is much more fun to spend it than to save it. And when you die, they are both gone.

What I've learned from my leaf-blower epiphany (and a few others that came before) is how the most simple but time-consuming tasks, like cooking, washing, sweeping, and yes, even writing with pen and paper, can be more rewarding than anything I could have planned. In fact, before I quit my 90 hour per week job, I would never have put sweeping the garage on my list of things to do. But in the course of a busy day, it came with an intrinsic reward of its own. Of course, if I'd had a leaf blower, the task would have been quicker, but less satisfying.

So, my suggestion is this: Save the money you were going to spend on that next great time-saving device. Instead, work a few hours less, cook a meal from scratch, read a few long books, and maybe even clean out your storage space (these are all cheap and require much time). Once you start time-spending and stop worrying about time-saving, life seems to produce its own rewards.

>>Back to top<<