By the Minute

The past few weeks have been. . . well, I'm not sure what they've been. I want to say that they've been busy, but that's not exactly right. There have been entire blocks of time where I have done little more than read, for leisure now instead of work. There have also been long walks with Darling Wife, sightseeing with friends, and even a camping trip. All of these things have been at a relaxed pace.

I suppose that this feeling of busyness has come from the fact that I am engaged in a large number of activities at present. Most of these activities are of a very short duration, and often there may be a considerable length of time between one activity and the next. But there is seldom a moment when I am not aware that I need to begin another activity at some point later in the day or week. This has resulted in a constant need to watch the clock, making me more aware of the passage of time than I usually am. I monitor every click of the second hand, every change of the numbers to the right of the colon.

You know how it is when you sit down to compose an e-mail or make a telephone call and you look up when the action is complete to discover that hours have passed without you realizing it? This can cause momentary panic or a feeling of loss, but it also means that you were able to detach yourself from your cares and worries, if only for a bit. Lately, I haven't had that luxury. To be sure, I've had the satisfaction of checking off many, many things from my "to do" list, gotten to know my sofa rather well, and enjoyed a great deal of outdoor recreation, but I am beginning to feel a little run down.

I suppose most of us feel this way. Perhaps the best symbol of our age isn't the computer, iPod, or cell phone. Perhaps it's the centuries-old clock. We measure our lives out, not by years or hours, but by minutes.