It’s really weird. My new shift is just two hours a day shorter than my previous one, but I feel like I’ve got more time than I really know what to do with it. I guess it probably helps that I leave work at four in the afternoon instead of at midnight, but still – so much time.
Beware, brag-a-thon ahead:
Today after work I went shopping, I couldn’t do that before, except at the little night open corner store that was always full of drunks. After that I went to the pub to sit down and write for an hour. Technically, I could do that before, but Cork pubs after midnight are either closed, or shock full of really drunk people. It’s hardly the ideal writing environment – even if I didn’t have a laptop for people to spill their drinks over.
My writing done, I went to spinning class. Yes, I went and had a pint at the pub before I went to the gym for my workout, because I felt like it. Afterwards, I sat around starring at the walls, being exhausted and not doing anything at all, and even then I had time left before bedtime so I went and prepared tomorrow’s breakfast.
As if that’s not enough I also prepared a sponge cake I want to bake for my team at work. I measured up all of the ingredients and laid out all of the tools I need. All that remains tomorrow is to wake up a little earlier, mix everything together and put it in the oven. Now it’s bed time though.
As I was writing the above, a friend of mine contacted me and asked if I would be interested in helping write for her radio show she’s doing. It wouldn’t take much time. There would be a meeting once a week and then I’d help out with the show itself. It wouldn’t be much work.
All of a sudden all my sense of having enough time just ran away.
She’s a good friend, and I feel bad for not wanting to help, but it’s also not something I’m particularly interested in, and it’s not something I’m sure I’d enjoy doing. If it was just a one-off, I’d probably do it, but at the moment, the thought of binding up my time on a weekly basis is a little bit daunting.
I know I just bragged about how much free time I have. It’s a bit ironic then to feel afraid of getting my time tied up in helping a friend. I guess it’s fear of commitment.