Oh To Have Two Extra Hours Each Day…

Do you remember when aliens came to visit, tempting me with a wish of anything I wanted? I wanted to have everything be exactly the same, except I wanted my husband Robert and I to be 10 years younger. That night, I sent them away, they stole all my beer and Doritos, and I haven’t seen them again.

Until now. This time, they had a different proposition for me. They were inspired by Daylight Savings Time, the fact that while we all blissfully gained another hour of sleep (not really, if you have a five-year-old, because they wake up at the same time whether the clock says to or not) and simultaneously complained about the fact that it’s now assdark:30 at just after 5:00pm.

They’ve been listening, and, apparently, the collective has been sending an “Oh, if I only had an extra hour or two everyday, I’d…” vibe into the universe. Perhaps they remembered that I always have beer and Doritos, or, perhaps, I was a great probe victim. Regardless, they came to visit once again to grant me a wish last night.

They told me that they have a new proposition. This time, it was to ask me what I would do were I to find myself with two extra hours each day. What would I do with that time, they asked. The taller dude wanted beer of course.

I asked them, to be sure I understood, because these particular aliens are much smarter than I am, what, exactly they meant. I asked whether I was reading the thoughts beamed into my brain correctly. Did I really have a chance to say what I’d do with two extra hours EVERY DAY?

“Yes,” they said. Although they looked at me kinda funny-like.

“OMG! I have two extra hours every single day?” I said!  What would I do?

1. Sleep. I know that is not noble in any way, but seriously, I’d like to sleep for two extra hours each day.

2. Therapy. My son’s therapy. He’s so tired after school each day, has a tutor once/week helping him with kindergarten stuff, has a “math and science” camp each week helping him to foster his love of robots and volcanos in a mainstreamed environment…He’s got speech therapy, occupational therapy, and just him therapy… I could use some extra time for this stuff.

3. Work. Really? I know; gross. For real, I’d work. I don’t always have enough time to do what I want to do in my job.

4. Volunteer. Not just in Tucker’s school, which I do, but elsewhere, more. I have been granted gigantic satisfaction volunteering at homeless shelters, women’s shelters and well, all of the places that need free, loving help.

5. I said sleep, right? Oh. Um, social media. I love sharing my fellow writing friends’ posts and words but often, I cannot keep up.

6. The gym. Sigh. I miss the gym. I miss liking me there.

7. Doing some Stuart Smalley stuff in the mirror. While I have an “I’m enough” sticker on my mirror, I wish to have some time to tell myself every single day that I am in fact, enough.

8. Drawing stupid pictures. They take time and I love them and I miss them.

9. Remembering stuff.

10. Playing with my little boy. I do this, a lot, but there are days when I’ve said to him that I can’t go somewhere because I have to work. That’s awful and horrible and I want that two extra hours for work and whatever so that when we go outdoors to kick the ball, I never look at my clock. Ever.

So, I told those alien dudes all of this.

And, once again, I got this look. Like you know. I’m a moron.

And once again, I started thinking about what I wanted.

Like, what, exactly, does two extra hours a day mean for the now and the here and the tomorrows? So I asked.

Those little aliens told me that I could have all of my wishes. That I’d been granted two extra hours every single day. I knew that there was a catch, though.

I started thinking about the catch. And doing the math. If I were to gain two hours per day, seven days per week, that’s like 14 hours a week. Each month, that’s like 56 hours or 224 hours per a four-week month. Based on a 52-week year, that’s like 728 hours, or like 1/2-day per year. Which sounds glorious right?

Except.

Except that it comes with a price, as do all wishes.

As with all wishes, this one comes with consequences. Like aging more rapidly. Like not remembering the moments. So in the end, while I so very much wish I had two hours at the end of each day to myself, I think I’ll take this life of mine, time-constrained, busy, and often full of unworthiness, exactly as it is. It’s simply too risky to not to.

This has been a post inspired by Lisa of The Golden Spoons and Rabia of The Lieber Family‘s Tuesday Ten linkup. This week’s subject was what we’d do with an extra two hours per day, were we to be gifted them.