Waste of Time

In what apparently has become a first day of the quarter tradition, I once again missed the bus today on my way to school. I was awake plenty early to catch it, but I dawdled getting dressed and out the door, and a cop car pulled up next to me at one of the traffic lights that I usually run, so the bus was already on its way to Bothell by the time I arrived at my usual stop.

I didn’t realize at first that I had missed it and spent about five minutes gazing down the street in vain for its arrival; gradually, though, it sank in that the bus I had seen pulling away as I neared the stop was mine and that consequently, I would be late for the early meeting I didn’t even want to go to in the first place (careful what you wish for, I guess).

Thereafter followed time in self-recrimination for being such a slowpoke, but eventually, I accepted the situation and resigned myself to the prospect of arriving after everyone was already seated and getting those looks of mingled disdain and envy from my colleagues who had managed to get themselves to school on time.

Meanwhile, I still had about twenty minutes until the next bus came and it occurred to me as I stood there cooling my heels that this period was just a complete waste of time. Here I was, essentially stuck on the street corner with nothing to do, whereas, had I caught the bus, I could get to my office before the meeting and use the time wisely and/or productively.

But it made me sad to think that I would consider any of the remaining moments in my life as time wasted; I tried to enjoy people-watching and simply being outside on a relatively pleasant winter morning.

I can’t say that worked completely, but at least it got me over caring that I was late.