Time Management (Photo credit: Intersection Consulting)
No attempted good deed ever goes unpunished in my world.
My schedule is so nuts, I have to plan my free time. Yes, it’s that bad. No, I don’t have kids. Yes, I know those of you who do have it worse. No, I don’t think I can handle hearing just how much worse. I’ve heard the stories; I get it, and I respect you.
I’ve done posts before about the calendars I use and I’ve bemoaned the lack of time to do things I should, like take personal grieving time after my mother died. But recently, a new twist found its way into the scene. I call it the overscheduled-wife-underscheduled-husband syndrome. Maybe you’ve heard of it.
To refresh your collective memory: The Husband (the title I use for my spouse/sometimes better half/the human the cats think is in charge) is retired, and has been for a few years. Monday through Friday, he keeps busy with automotive and house projects, club meetings and whatever household chores I require of him as a tradeoff for continuing to cook his meals. The problem is the weekends. I need to do my stuff. My stuff would be freelance writing, editing and the research that goes with that. I also volunteer when I can fit it in. I do laundry, grocery shop, longer workouts, athletic competitions, paperwork (anything from filing to gathering tax papers to monitoring investments) and household chores that require my personal attention, like cleaning toilets (yes, I’ve asked him to do this. The look he gave me was somewhere between shocked and toxic). The Husband wants to do fun stuff, like shop and go to the beach and car shows. Clearly, he does not have enough to do.
Shop? I hate to shop, unless it’s food-related. There’s something screwy with my girly genetics, and I know it.
The beach? I am at the age where skin preservation is paramount. My sunblock’s SPF is so high, the stuff looks like house paint.
Car shows? Hey, I like nice cars, but only if I can drive it and someone else is buying it for me.
Lately, it’s been about compromise. I give up a few hours on one weekend day, and in return, I usually get the rest to do what I need. I still miss the lazy times when I could sneak in a nap, though. But I’m hopeful. The Husband’s posterior will soon be firmly planted in front of the high-def, watching grown men race fast cars while they avoid immovable objects, like concrete walls. That’s right: NASCAR, Formula 1, IndyCar and all their brethren are heading to our living room. And I’ll get all my weekends back.
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A very clever name for the “syndrome” and I think I know what you’re talking about! In contrast, my husband runs a VERY busy schedule and as a spouse there are of course obligations that I should be at to support him so I get sucked into a hectic schedule at times too. Making time for myself (and I mostly do this while he travels) is essential.
Sucked in, indeed. I find that if I must go places with him, I bite the gas bullet, so to speak, and take my own car, so I can leave if I need to. And I work nights after work, to ease the weekend issues, too. Of course, this means I have a 16-18 hour day sometimes. I have no earthly idea how people with kids ever do it and NOT wind up with their brains scrambled for good.