Nowadays, I wish I had more time to write. I miss my forlorn days of unemployment when I had all the time in the world to coax my little sentences out of hiding. Alas, with a day job, it ain’t quite so easy anymore. By the time I get home from work and handle daily chores, I’m wiped. My brain is fried. I can barely remember my own name, let alone how to string words together in a coherent narrative. Boo hoo.
I also wish I had more time deep space travel. By the time you even get to the moon, half of your vacation time is burned up. The last time I went to the moon, I had only had half a day to play at the gravity free zone before I had to turn around and come right back. I did manage to stop off at Roscoe’s Moon Emporium & Galaxian Oddities for souvenirs. I do really enjoy my moon mug and drink coffee from it every morning. The bulk of my vacation was spent just getting there and back, and that was just the moon; you can forget about going to Mars unless you get at least a month off a year.
I’ve been neglecting my unicorns, too. I’m never going to be able to show them at the 2012 AUC National Agility Championship if I don’t have time to work with them more. Why, Sally can hardly even walk a tightrope and she’s nearly a year old.
There are a million things I wish I had more time to do. I could collect cheese, recycle paperclips, whittle sculptures out of chocolate or reorganize my sock drawer, but they weren’t kidding when they called my job full time when I was hired. I spend at least 40 hours a week there! I’m not sure how many total hours there are in a week, but 40 has got to be at least nearly all of them. I’d like to write the President or Father Christmas to lobby for a shorter work week, but I just don’t have the time.