Free Time

Since my children flew across the country last Wednesday, I've decided the topic of free time needed to be explored and I've discovered some facts you MAY not know. I say MAY, because it is conceivable you've been keeping these misconceptions to yourselves in an evil plot to ridicule those of us who didn't know... it is plausible, even, that you are foul temptresses, taunting me with something that doesn't exist, in which case I mostly forgive you. But if you DIDN'T know 'free time' was only a myth, then in spite of MY OWN foul temptress leanings, I am here to set you straight.

Obligations Rise to Meet Availability

So my kids left Wednesday. You know what I had to do Wednesday night? GO TO A MEETING. I think I've been clear on my feelings about meetings.

Oh yes, you might argue the meeting would have still existed had the children still been present, but you see, had the children been PRESENT, then the meeting would have been an ESCAPE. Instead, with no children present, the meeting was TORTURE.

I think you can follow me on the math here... it's fuzzy math—the variety used by economists, but there is no flaw in my calculations. Something that is one thing in one circumstance, is another thing altogether in another. It has to do with opportunity costs, uncomfortable chairs and silly hats.

Pernicious Pestilence

And by pestilence I mean... erm... cleaning the bathroom. Doing the laundry. All those little projects I HATE. So much of my time is eaten by these little annoying things... Why can't they invent a self-cleaning bathroom... a self-cleaning litter box... self folding laundry... Any of you out there with an entrepreneurial spirit and a skill for inventing, those things would make you very very rich, and make ME very very happy... so happy, in fact, that you would be guaranteed a chair as a minor deity once the Naked World Domination Tour has completed it's takeover.

The Project Monster

So when the childings are gone and you are left alone with Mr. Tart, rather than the normally romantic leanings a proper man ought to have, this particular one looks around and says, “Maybe we could get some stuff done.”

Say what? Why?

Let's chop down the trees!

*Tart's internal Ent growls*

To be fair, it was actually my NEIGHBOR'S suggestion. The trees were between her garage and our fence... And while I LOVE the trees, they DO intertwine inappropriately with several varieties of wires... they were in fact SLUTTY trees, all tangled up all over the place, indiscriminate about who they wrapped their arms around...

And to be REALLY REALLY FAIR, my neighbor, as she recruited my husband for the tree murder project, she said, “and Tam, you can sit by the pool and write!” WOOHOO! (Did I tell you my neighbor is my hero?) So Saturday had me first editing, then typing, then even a little READING, which hubby climbed in the roof of neighbor's garage and cut branches, then they felled these trees as close to 'between wires' as they could manage, though there were admittedly some wires were loath to let go of their leaferly lovers...

Still, it was the best free time I GOT this weekend. And it wasn't FREE. It was a GIFT.