I guess it's a bit late to be sending off my wish list, but, as you know, in my struggle to be a "good girl" this year I seem to be lacking one important commodity: time. Is it too late to write to you?
No? Thanks so much. Have I mentioned you seem to have lost a few pounds?
Anyway, Santa, what I really want this year is an extra 3 or 4 hours in the day. Or maybe just a bank of hours to use in a discretionary fashion. You decide. OK?
What will I do with these hours?
Well, I hadn't really thought in depth about how 'd spend them. And, Santa, to be perfectly honest, I'd like to say I'd use them for all sorts of responsible things like bill paying, bathroom cleaning, and flowerbed weeding. But you know me too well to believe that.
Mostly I think I'd use them for knitting, reading, playing with the kids, and hanging out with my husband. On days before posting grades I'd probably use them for emergency essay-reading time; on days before we have company there'd probably be some crazy housecleaning action.
Yes, I know that the list I e-mailed to my family was full of knitting books and DVDs. The problem is, Santa, that I don't have TIME for the DVDs or the knitting books without the hours. And you're the only supernatural person I know.
No you're right, God and Jesus count, too. And Christmas is still part of their jurisdiction, I know.
But somehow I suspect that Jesus would ask me to look at the mote in my own eye, first, before requesting a special beam from him. Jesus would probably say, Dana, my beloved daughter, those minutes that you spend on e-mail or Blogger or the New York Times--those are the minutes that you could use for this stuff that you say is your priority. And for every hour you lie awake discontented about your life, you could spend an hour getting your life in order. And for every hour you procrastinate on grading, my dear one, you could be grading for an hour and going home with a clear conscience. And every second that you walk past that mess could be a second you use to stop and clean it up.
I agree, Santa, I think Jesus gives great advice. It's just that it's a little harder to hear than a jolly Ho-Ho-Ho-here-you-go!, you know?
This is the problem with grown-up letters to you, Saint Nick...the things you bring don't scratch my itches any more. It seems like what will really help me this Christmas is to give myself a few gifts. And that's a lot more work than unwrapping a box.
But if you could tuck season 5 of Buffy into your big red bag--that'd be awesome.
Saturday, December 15, 2007