Wednesday, October 28, 2009

A Matter of Time

My mother sent me a text message asking if I was alive. My friend sent me one telling me I was voted off the island. One of my girls texted that she was going to call me and I had better answer the phone for a change.

I have said it before and I will say it again – I suck and I am sorry. I have become that person with the annoying personal defect that her friends and family can’t stand but tolerate because they love her. Like being late or never picking up a tab. 

I am Miss Incommunicado.

I figured it out this morning when I wasn’t responding to my emails or acknowledging the missed call light on my phone.

I suck at math so forgive me if this is wrong but there are:

168 hours in a week, and on an easy week I spend

54 of those at work. I spend maybe

49 of those sleeping,

10 at the gym (when I am being good),

14 on routine maintenance, a little more if I feel like shaving on a regular basis,

7 eating,

10 on the pursuit of coffee,

4 staring at the ceiling stressing about something, most likely work or boy related,

and 10 writing.

That leaves 10 hours a week to have a social life and that is never enough.

I spend all day staring at my computer, constantly communicating and when I finally make my way to the quiet of my loft, the last thing I want to do is talk or respond to requests for my attention.

I know that that is shitty, that people I care about are requesting just a small fraction of my time but sometimes that small fraction is more than I can muster.

Clearly, I am in no position to be a parent and this kind of selfish isolationist attitude makes me wonder if I ever will.

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