I should start counting all the hours of my life that are wasted. Not the wasted hours as a child watching endless episodes of the Love Boat and Scooby Doo or even the hours now spent watching cooking shows and Seinfeld reruns, but rather the hours stolen from me. The hours and cumulative days taken needlessly by those who don’t know any better. The worst wasters are the endless meetings that rehash the last meeting without progress only to be rehashed next week and the week after that. I‘ve spent hours listening to the nonsensical lunacy of brides to be and their lectures ont eh importance of color schemes. Even worse are the wonderings of the single girls as to why they are single and the super ego who details for you the last 24 hours of his life minute by minute and includes an unremarkable trip to Starbucks and the sandwich he had for lunch.
I know I could have spared myself the near death boredom by being more honest up front. I could bow out of meeting because my narcoleptic tendencies during moments of complete boredom are a distraction to others. Maybe if I stopped bridezilla mid stream and feigned color blindness she would have stopped. Or maybe if I mentioned to the single girl that all she talks about is being single which makes you boring beyond belief which is why she’s single. Maybe had I taken control, then and only then could I have better spent those wasted hours, but then where would I get the inspiration to spend an hour writing an ever so interesting and important blog on the uninteresting and unimportant.