Wasted Time

I jot down notes on actual paper because I'm old fashioned like that.  I also tend to lose said loose papers frequently.  Because I have four kids who love to doodle on and destroy random scraps of paper.  I don't know why in this age of technology this is still a thing.  And tape hoarding.  Why do my kids love tape?  And what do they do with it?  Anyway, I should probably be happy that they are engaged in the real world even if they are polluting it and contributing to me losing my mind.  Of course, I'm not though. However, that whole explanation was a waste of time, because this post isn't about my kids.

It's about nothing.  

Like Seinfeld.

Sometimes I have a list of ideas for things to write about.  Although mostly I don't.  But when I do, sometimes my kids don't destroy that list.  Although mostly they do.  But this time they didn't.  And when I finally found the list that I don't keep in the same place (because why would I do that) there was only one idea not crossed off.  Wasted Time.  And it's not crossed off for one very important reason.  Because I've looked at it several times.  I spent time contemplating it.  And still, I have no idea what the hell I meant by it.  

What does it mean???

I think it goes without saying that this was going to be Pulitzer Prize winning piece of writing that was going to change lives.  The world even.  But, what the hell was it about?  An introspective about living every moment?  An expose on the extinction of wrist watches and how they pollute our landfills?  Or did I misspell it and it was supposed to read Wasted Thyme, a post about how underutilized and overlooked the underdog herb is in our cuisine?  Do you see the potential here?

It's as vast and elastic as time itself.  

As is my ability to waste your time while I babble on.  And after writing this contemplating what I meant, I still have no idea what I meant by Wasted Time.  Unless it was about my impending dementia.  Oh my god, that's probably it!