What is it about this blog that prompts me to confess to my silliness, I don’t know, but here’s a story that cracks me up, even though I am the one telling it. OK, so yesterday, I was teaching Dehydrating 101 for the first time. I structured it to be a half-day class, with a total of six recipes and an intro, so it was an ambitious schedule. I also booked the class in a venue that I have never taught in before, a half hour drive from my house. All these things made me decide to get up extra early to have time to get my things in order and arrive in a peaceful state. I set my alarm clock for 4:30 a.m.
Saturday morning, I opened my eyes, glanced at the clock, and to my horror saw that it said 6:00. I bolted out of bed and began rushing around. I made my tea, jumped in the shower, started packing things up to take to the car, etc. In the midst of this, I looked at my phone to be sure I didn’t have any texts or messages from attendees or my assistants.
That’s when I realized: it wasn’t 6:00 when I had looked at the clock. It was 12:30. (My bedside clock isn’t digital: it has hands. The BIG hand was on the 6, not the little one. Eeeeek!) So now I was at a crossroads: It was approaching 2:00 a.m. and I was already showered, half packed and mentally fully engaged. Do I go back to bed, or do I stay up? I decided I would stay up.
By the time I did get to class, I had gotten all my weekend chores accomplished and then some. I planted five flats of wheatgrass, got the laundry done, answered emails, paid bills and even flipped my mattress!
Of course, by the time I fell into bed Saturday night I was quite the zombie, but I have to admit I loved the “found time” that my dyslexic moment caused.
Next weekend here in the USA we “fall back” and gain an hour because we change our clocks. What will you do with your “found time?”