Measuring Time

Most mornings the mayor yells down the hall to me, "what's going on in that office?"

"Work," I yell back.

Then he walks (oxygen in his backpack always) in to shake my hand and call me "Sunshine," and ask how I'm doing. I'm part of his daily rounds before he retires home for reruns of Matlock at 10 am. This morning we talked about short airflights. He'd just taken his wife to El Paso for a quick 40 minute flight to Albequerque to visit their youngest child this week.

As he left he asked, "does it take about 2 1/2 hours from El Paso to Chicago?"

"Yes."

"About 2 1/2 Matlocks then."

"Yep."

I mention this because I have televison again, and I sure don't want to go back to measuring my life in half hour increments. I used to do that, and there never seemed to be enough time to get anything done. Time is better to me when it is open-ended and not dictated by that stupid box in the living room.