Each day is like a box: 8 hours tall, 8 hours wide, 8 hours deep.  There’s only so much we can fit in it; the rest of our efforts and good intentions fall out.Sleep takes 8 hours, especially if one includes the time to wash up prior and post.  Work takes 8 hours; though in truth, this extends to push the box into a more rectangular shape with requirements for dress, commute and overtime.  There are less than 8 hours left into which we try to stuff our dreams and desires, our social and family time, our learning and entertainment.Then of course, there’s the laundry, and cleaning, and repairing, and bill paying.  We really have only a few precious hours of free time.  Considering this limitation, it’s amazing how cavalier we are with those minutes.  We dawdle, lollygag, procrastinate and mis-prioritize.  We throw junk in the box that is meant to hold our treasures.

Perhaps, if I organized my box instead of leaving it a jumble of ill-fitting tasks and experiences, I could fit in more of the important things.  If I did all the cleaning on Saturday mornings, I’d have room to place time with my daughters.  If I could look over the bills while getting the car’s oil changed, I’d have time to make a nice dinner for my wife.  If I rose early enough, I could see the sun rising above the distant ridgeline and feel it bless the day.