Skip to main content

Unplugged?

I keep reading that I shouldn't check email in the morning lest I ruin a good run of productive breakfast-fueled time. Of course, I can't do that. I am too afraid I'll miss something from an editor, or something fun to read, or anything. Given how much time I spend alone working at home, email is almost a life blood.

But then there's the time suckers like, say, reading blogs, :), and organizing my sock drawer (which I swear I will do if pressed to procrastinate.)

Mostly though it's email. I am grateful I don't have a Crackberry. But I do occasionally load up IM (because The Prince prefers to chat mid-day this way). I'm starting to wonder if I'm actually more productive tethered, or just more stressed. And if I'd be more productive if I pulled the plug -- if even for a few hours a day.

Would love to hear from those who are cheerfully floating without their digital leash...

Comments

Karrine said…
I check my email every morning :-) I can some how get up 20 minutes before my three children to check my email - but not to go to the gym ;) go figure !
Sugarmama said…
I find that I can EITHER cruise around online OR do the projects I like. I just don't have enough free time in a day to do both, no matter how hard I try to be disciplined about my computer time.
Anonymous said…
PULL the blug! I just signed off facebook (for lent or something) bc that's become my latest time sink. Keep on reading and keep on writing but oh, how the hours do wither away. and if you can avoid the bb, good for you. I'm hooked on bb emails - seems to save time and I'm firm about not reading/writing when i'm with the littlees. I've hung on to my paper calendar... good luck to you.sSs

Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...)Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

Recommended & the Mahiki dance-off

My GFs and I went to Mahiki last night, great fun as usual but made me feel a bit old; it seems that Thursday night is the playground of the just-past-pubescent. Oh well. Good tunes though, so whatever.In between taking over the dancefloor - the youngsters may have youth on their side but frankly that shrinks to insignificance in the face of two decades of clubbing experience - one of my GFs and I got into a conversation about why so many people are full of bull.It appears that many people we come across are content to live their lives in a superficial way, skimming the surface of what life has to offer and equating the ownership of stuff (cars, houses, boats, jewelry, designer clothes) with happiness. They converse in terms of status, strut their possessions as a measure of their own self-worth, take themselves far too seriously, are quick to judge others, easily annoyed, complain a lot about very little and their worries seem to far outweigh their joys. Personally, I think all that…

Champix

Following on from the realisation that my lungs are filthy and if I don't give up the smokes soon I face a life of wheezing at best, off I trotted to see the charming Dr T.

Dr T, who's charming by virtue of the fact that he's less jaded than the other doctors in the surgery (in other words, he treats patients as if they're human beings with a right to NHS services rather than annoying fraudsters trying to gain sympathy for imaginary illnesses) promptly put me on potentially habit-forming drugs to get me off the evil weed. Something doesn't feel quite right about this but since I'm so pathetically grateful to have a doctor who's willing to give me more than two seconds of his precious time, I have acquiesced to his demands.

Anyway, this wonder drug is called Champix and promises to have me merrily chucking my smokes in the bin in no time. Or it will if I can get past the possible side effects, the highlights being abnormal dreams, nausea, flatulence, snoring, …