The fungibility of time

It's 4:30. I don't have anywhere I need to be until 7:00. That means that I could squeeze two and a half more hours of work out of this day, and still not take any of it home with me.

Only thing is, I woke up at 5 a.m. this morning. (Because I went to bed at 9 p.m. last night. Don't ask me why I did that.) I usually get up at about 8 a.m., and scurry like mad to get to campus by 9, except on days when I don't have to be on campus and sleep until 10:30. (Can you say "spoiled rotten scholar"?)

What difference does this make? Well, even when I'm not thinking about it, my mind somehow seems to know that it's already been awake for 11 1/2 hours. And usually, when I've been awake for 11 1/2 hours, it's a lot closer to the end of the day than it is right now. So my mind and body are all ready to be wrapping up my projects and calling it a day, but the clock is sitting there staring at me telling me to be a good girl and keep working.

Baby steps, baby steps, baby steps. I don't have to either pack it in right now, or bear down for a full two and a half hours of unbroken labor. I guess I'll just go do ... something else.


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