Tinkering with Time

 

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This morning, I had to get up early (by my standards, anyway) for a doctor's appointment. By the time I would normally be coming downstairs and getting my day started, I'd already been to the doctor's, read part of the New York Times newsletter that lands in my inbox each morning, gone to the grocery store, grabbed a Starbucks (and nearly finished the NYT article while waiting in the drive-through), put the groceries away and put dinner in the crockpot.

Just in time to join my husband (who's on vacation this week) on the sunporch to watch it snow. 

As a night owl, I acknowledge the early half of the morning only grudgingly but, each time I have to get up early for an appointment, I wonder why I don't do this more often. The sense of accomplishment I feel by mid-afternoon is wonderful and, I tell myself, I could feel this accomplished every day.

Even if I had to nap every afternoon to make up for it. 

Oh, yeah. That's why I don't do it. My body clock has other ideas. 

Last night, as I tried to fall asleep (Sunday nights are always a challenge), I started thinking about next semester. I'm teaching two classes instead of three, which means I'm on campus three days instead of five. This is the most significant shift I've had in my schedule in at least three years, since my schedule settled into an 11:00 start time every day. In addition, instead of starting at 11, I start at noon.

I know. Nice work if you can get it. 

But last night, as I turned over (and over and over) bidding sleep to come because I had to be up early (fails every time), I started thinking about how I wanted to structure my days and how soon I wanted that structure to start. My daughter went back to work today, and my husband goes back next week. Do I want a blissful week of unscheduled days (relatively speaking) or do I want to start the semester routine right at the start of 2022?

I need to pause here to tell you how much maturity I credit myself with for even asking that question, loaded though it may be.

And, for the first time ever, I'm actually leaning toward the second option. And I'm considering an earlier rising time as part of that plan.

I'll grant you that all of this sounds like frivolous navel-gazing, and maybe it is. But life changes inspire schedule changes (and vice versa) and sometimes, they're just the impetus we need to jazz things up a bit and make new things happen.

The truth is, I've been planning spring 2022 semester for a couple of months now. How I'll use the two days I'm not teaching so they're neither wasted nor an overbooked extension of my teaching days. What I really want to read/do/study/organize/decorate...whatever! How I'll structure my on-campus days now that I"m starting and finishing later. 

Time is the most valuable commodity we have. When we receive a windfall of it, we need to use it well, treating it as the gift it is -- something for which we're grateful and which we give due consideration when it comes to how we will incorporate it into our lives. That way, when we look back on how we've spent it at the end of a day or a week or a month, or even a semester, we'll be pleased with the investment we've made.

My deliberations have led me to some tentative conclusions, and I need to see if both the spirit and the flesh are in on the plan. And, as with any new routine, I expect that this one will take time to develop into one that's workable, and so I need to be prepared to let it emerge.

This afternoon, between writing this entry and posting it, my new Next Big Idea Club book box arrived. In it, I found the book at right.

Serendipity? Maybe. But even if I don't yet know for sure what next week will look like, I know what I'll be reading.