Today was the end of Daylight Saving Time. Today we got our hour back. Today was a unicorn.
Every day should have 25 hours.
It dawned on me, as today seemed like it stretched on forever, that this is exactly what I need. I need 25 hour days, every day of the week.
In 25 hours, I can sleep in a bit. I can go to Costco. I can hit the liquor store, return something at J C Penney, swing by Rite Aid. In 25 hours I can read random websites, check the polls, scroll through Facebook. I can have a meaningful conversation with my daughter.
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| Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash |
In 25 hours, I can take a bath. Write a blog post. Write lesson plans for the week. Check my credit card balance. Take out the trash.
Even with 25 hours, I did not manage to fold the laundry.
In a 25 hour day, I can do yoga. (I cannot do Chaturanga.)
Right now, in the last waning hour of this 25 hour day, I can sit on the couch, a cat on my lap, and think. Imagine.
If I had 25 hour days, what would I fill that extra hour with? How long would it take before I needed another hour just to feel like I could catch my breath?
It will be a year before I get another 25 hour day.
I wonder if I will ever figure out the balance.