Wasting Time
 

I hate to waste time. Ideally, my time should be spent with family, friends, pursuing investments, exercising, reading, sleeping, on the computer, or on a host of other things that are productive, including helping others.

I am not driven. I like to relax and watch the NFL on TV. The time I hate to waste is the kind that occurs when I do something stupid and time is needed to undo.

Having a heart attack, which I've had, and spending five days in the hospital, which I've done, is not considered by me a waste of time. That's just life.

However, falling in your home and breaking a body part I do consider, possibly unfairly, a waste of time. I believe that, if one does daily balance exercises and is careful, one will not seriously fall. And I have not. If you fall, it is your fault I will believe that until I fall.

Getting hit by a car while jaywalking I also consider a waste of time or worse. Jaywalking is stupid and I stupidly do it. I am, however, careful in my carelessness. It may seem strange but I am more concerned about wasting time than about the possible injury itself. So far so good.

Recently, I stupidly wasted a whole day. I was on my computer when a message appeared blocking my email. It was from Microsoft, filled with dire warnings and commanding me to call Microsoft support. I called and somebody led me through a series of clicks. "How do I know you're not a hacker?" I asked. "I'm just trying to help you," he replied with exasperation. I am pretty slow in the
click department.

Stupid question, right? And stupid call to begin with. Yes, the villain got control of my computer. Then he wanted me to pay $300 for virus protection. He wanted my credit card number. That's when this sucker woke up. I shouted an obscenity at him and hung up. In the blank space in the upper right of my computer a message appeared. It was succinct. "Fuck you," it said.

I guess that was proof positive.

To undo this damage, I lugged the computer to an Apple Store and spent a whole day trying to convince Yahoo Mail that I was me.

This is the kind of time-wasting that I deplore. I hope I don't fall for that again. But I may do something else foolish, like rushing to make a departing subway. The mistakes I could make are legion. Even little mistakes can be costly. For I am a bleeder, an eighty-nine-year-old with thin skin taking two blood thinners. Look at me cross-eyed and I might bleed.

Back to time, an extremely valuable commodity. I do so hate to waste it. I don't think that is a function of age. I've always felt that way.

But I think I would not write this piece if I were on food stamps. I have the dubious luxury of impatience. I must be spoiled. A really nice guy but definitely spoiled. -- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.












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