The elusive extra hour

We had a 25 hour day today and I had such plans for it. Regular followers of my blog or Twitter feed will know how much I always worry about not having enough time and trying to squeeze enough in. This week I said goodbye to something that has been a part of my life for a few years now and am rather sad but am still not very confident about how much time it will now free up.

To make things worse, some total penis posted this into my Twitter feed this week.

Enough timeThis kind of thing irritates the shit out of me. (Excuse the swearing.) Presumably whoever dreamt this up has a cleaner, PA, nanny, and NOTHING EVER GOES WRONG. (While trying to write this blog, the computer and internet have crashed, E has not gone to sleep and has required calming – so much for her being tired because she hasn’t adjusted to the time yet, sigh,)

 

So I decided to do a more realistic one. Here you go.

My time

I included housework that the person above clearly doesn’t do, I included the childcare the person above clearly doesn’t do, I included married stuff (read into this what you will but it usually consists of sitting on the sofa watching Scandinavian crime dramas), I even – gasp! – included the half hour we spend trying to do the Guardian’s crossword on a Saturday so you get an idea of the level of detail here.

This leave me 10 hours a week to do everything else. That includes, reading, writing (anything – bearing in mind I’m rewriting my book, have a blog to keep up, would like to have some kind of short story published at some point, and am undergoing some peer reviews online atm – so there’s quite a bit) and, hahaha, socialising. Mainly reading and writing. Do I have enough time? Not really no. Enough of the sanctimonious pie charts please.

 

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