“Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.” William Wordsworth

How often have we said, “Time flies.”  It felt like we just finished a rollover into the next decade and it is already March.

I begin work at 8:00 in the morning and somewhere around 12:30 p.m. I’ll come up for air and ask, “Where have the last four hours gone?”  Then with a snap of the fingers it is the end of the day … week … month …

And the adage is true that as you age time speeds up.  It is Monday, then Friday— with a few deep breaths.

So what happens when time stands still?  As Benjamin Franklin warned, “Remember that time is money. “

We left a concert in La Jolla on a rainy Sunday afternoon, jumped into the car, threw on our seat belts and started the car … or ATTEMPTED to start the car.  There was simply a fast clicking noise when I turned the key in the ignition.  Okay, what had been left on to drain the battery juice?  Nothing!  So I waited a few minutes, tried again … the same result.

Time to call my insurance carrier.  The customer service lady with a beautiful southern drawl informed me that the first tow truck company she could reach said they would be there within 45 minutes.  Wow!  That’s a l-o-n-g time to wait!  She tried several other companies and they had longer estimates.

So we sat in the car and looked at each other.  Could we find a place to eat?  Not close by.  Was there a Chess game in the trunk?  No, not one.  Book or magazine we could check out?  Lost on that one too.  Laptops?  At home.  Flip cam?  Why had I forgotten it?

So we sat and looked at our watches.  Only five minutes had passed.  It seemed like an hour …

Okay, do some people watching … Checked the time … Two more minutes had passed.   Darn it—time was crawling.

We looked at each other speechless.  Now mind you I’m sitting in the car with a dear friend I can have a two-and-a-half-hour lunch with and never run out of things to talk about.

You check every car that passes by, praying for the tow truck.  Check your watch again … one more minute gone.   Try to start the car just one more time … click, click, click.  Check your watch again …

Mentally run through the concert program.  Check your watch again … one more minute ticked by.  Try to start the car … click, click, click.  Check your watch again … Ask your friend what time they have?  Maybe my watch is broken …

The ASAP Towing Company appeared on the scene 19 minutes after I placed the call.   Jose pulled out the jumper cables and we were on our way in less than 4 minutes.

Am still pondering that 19 minutes.  Is it so vital to always have something to do?  Have we become such a gadget-oriented society that our fingers must always be fiddling with something?  Or was the impatience merely a distraction from being jerked away from a schedule?

I’ve thought in 19-minute increments today.  It has put a different slant on the day.  In a way that defies logic, when you slice up the day into smaller segments it lasts longer.

The next time I’m at a l-o-n-g red light or (God forbid) my battery is dead, I’m going to attempt to do nothing (yep, not even meditate) and just enjoy it—without feeling guilty?!

How do you cope with the unexpected “off the clock” shift in your day?  Do you get all upset?  Reach for a gadget?  Or sit back and just let it flow?  Please share your ideas with me … I’m headed for another 19-minute increment day!

To Our Unbridled Success,

Dar