I need an egg timer, I announced to M the other day. She inquired as to the necessity of that, when we have clocks and such. Mostly, I said, because I am oblivious and wander off while doing things like baking. I also do well in the “do x for 15 minutes and then you can reward yourself with y” type of housekeeping. Finally, the new microwave has a timer but the “I’m done” beep is so quiet and subtle that if I’m not in the kitchen actively listening for it, I won’t hear it. This is not good when I set a timer to tell me when I need to get ready to leave.
My favorite unit of time is how long it takes the tea kettle to whistle. As I have a new and rather aggressive stove (seriously, it’s a show off) and a new tea kettle (purple even! a bday gift from the Incredibly Patient Mother, who has heard me for some time lament a non-purple teapot)–this is still an unknown quantity at the new apartment. But in La Crosse it was about ten minutes. I could get loads of things done while waiting for the tea kettle.
A new unit of time for me is my actual train ride in the morning and evening. My total commute is about 50 minutes, give or take a train. Once you take off the walk to the train, waiting for the train, various interruptions from and walking from the train, it’s about 25 minutes of reading time. It took four trips to get through an issue of the Smithsonian. Next week I’ll be timing an issue of National Geographic.
It’s research, right?