I've been looking for
ways to save time so I searched "save time" on the
Internet. It was a big waste of you-know-what.
Oh, there are a zillion
links that tell us why we need to keep a to do
list and how to rank our tasks. Heck, I do keep a
to do list. The problem is that it's longer at the
end of the day than it was at the start.
For years my Dad would
tell me, "Barb, time marches on. Take time to
smell the roses." I tried. Dad died some time ago,
but I still hear his words in my head. Alas, I'm
still working on the smell-the-roses dictum.
Part of my problem is
that I love my work managing our yacht charter and
yacht school in N. Fort Myers. I love working
around the house, even pulling weeds or
dust-sweeping up those ubiquitous border collie
dog hairs. Twenty-five years in our home and
nearly 30 years in business. Life is good.
Still, there is that
nagging to do list.
I wag my finger and
preach to people to make time to go cruising. But,
I confess to you, brothers and sisters, that I
have failed to live by the gospel of relaxation
myself. I confess that my work ethic alter ego has
sometimes planted a not-kindly thought in my mind:
How come they get to go on a cruise and I have
Mea Culpa. I know, what
I have to do is learn from my customers. They know
how to manage their time rather than the other way
around. They learned how to reward themselves for
jobs well done rather than weight themselves down
with blame for jobs undone.
Dad was right. Time
marches on. It can't give us more of itself. It
flows regularly and inescapably forward. There is
no turning back the clock or the calendar. Time
and tide wait for no man. Nor this woman.
So I am hereby making
some mid-course corrections.
One is I am going to let
my to do list get longer and from now on, in my
mind, longer is better. I'll sleep at night
knowing that it's all written down.
Another correction is
rather than blame myself for jobs not done, I'll
congratulate myself for doing important jobs well.
And the last is that I
will now add fun things to the list just to, you
know, smell the roses. Thanks, Dad.