Last Minute Person

I'm not a last-minute person anymore. I used to be. Call me, and I'd have been ready in 5 minutes, ready to go out and see a movie, hike a distance, munch on goodies and heave back the drinkies in a bar or restaurant and go on to a nightclub and rock the night away until dawn.

I stare back in astonishment at the creature I was. Packing life in at a furious pace. Up for anything, anytime. Getting by on so little sleep as to be laughable.

I rarely took the time to reflect; there was so little time anyway, with a household to run, a big job to manage, staff to handle, reports to produce. Leisure time was the release valve from all of that. Colleagues became super important (where are they now?)

"Raising Children at Home in Your Spare Time" was an instructional manual us working mothers read, laughed, and followed. Hard to believe now in the era of "helicopter parenting." 

Of course, when we're up to ninety with our lives, every minute packed, we're not dealing with the underlying reasons for all of that. The lack of any kind of reflection which brought us to that place.

Speaking for myself, it was trying to survive an emigration from my native country, an unhappy marriage and frightening responsibilities for a woman (basically a girl) who still hadn't cracked thirty years of age. I had walked out of my strictly controlled father's house into an unheard-of freedom in another country. My own boss. Finally.

But of course I wasn't anywhere near a boss at all. My life was not my own. In those days, the real boss could call you anytime of the night and day, women worked as if they had no other responsibilities (children's sickness, etc). Grounds for dismissal were letting elements of another life creep into your work life. Women's rights were always on the edge as male managers were never impacted by the trivia of domestic life.

Part 1 of I don't know how many parts. I am writing an article on feminism at the moment so this is helping me, sorting out my thoughts before hitting the keys.