Excuse Me Please, Have You Got A Moment?
Excuse me please, have you got a moment? Usually when someone says that to me I groan inwardly because these words are generally uttered by those relentless people standing at strategic places in shopping malls trying to sell you time share holidays you have no interest in. Or maybe it’s just me who attracts such people.
The thing is that I’m usually rushing to get something or the other done. In the past few years I have realised that I have no time at all for myself. I was looking at the split ends on my hair today and recalled that the last time I went for a haircut was about two years ago when my very close friend got cancer and started losing her hair with the chemotherapy, so to give her my support I cut my hair really short because she always admired my hair, having been blessed with lovely locks herself.
The hair looks like it needs help now, the nails would love a pampering session at a spa, the body would love to be indulged in an exotic massage with scents to calm and relax the core of my soul. You may be forgiven for thinking I don’t have access to these luxuries but I do and need a severe kick for not utilising them.
I was honoured with a ‘by invitation only’ membership to the country’s top-notch spa that’s been listed among the world’s best and what do I do? I neatly stick the membership card into my wallet and instead of making use of this heaven-sent opportunity I slog and slave and drive myself further into the ground. Despite being aware of the fact I still don’t slow down to heed to my needs.
Look around you. Everyone seems to be rushing somewhere to do something. Not many can brag of being able to slow down to put their feet up and enjoy something leisurely. Even a cup of tea with the feet up seems like a distance memory. Everything is done on the go and we’re all part of this rat race trying to finish off. But you know what? Even if you do finish up the rat race, you’re still a rat. I’m being metaphoric here so don’t start writing to the Public Editor to whinge. Think about it. We’re so engrossed in being overachievers that we forget to slow down and give time to things that matter more.
I’ve always laughed at people who wish there were more hours in the day. What on earth for? I’d mock them. The tables have not turned and I would be ever so grateful that instead of 24 hours in the day we would somehow get something like maybe 30 hours. Every single day I feel I wish I had more time to do this or that. I’m not so awful at time management but some days I really do wish I had a few extra hours because no, I don’t have a moment at all.
Basically my life revolves around my children and work. I love both aspects completely. My children ensure I don’t turn into a heartless bitch and my work ensures I don’t start getting frozen yoghurt for brains. Then on the social front I’m not so active any more. If there’s something that’s work related I’ll go out otherwise I’m really very happy sitting at home in my pyjamas, painting my nails and reading a book. The point is that I have no point. I’m just trying to demonstrate how time seems to have become so sparse and precious that I’d love to have a few more hours increased in the day. If you’re related to Father Time, please sort me out will you?