I took time out of my day yesterday to go to the nail shop for my long overdue mani/pedi. I normally go every two weeks, but because I’ve been so busy with reporting and writing, I hadn’t been in a month.
As I sat there getting my services, I found myself constantly watching the clock. I had blocked the time off on my calendar, and I stuck to my appointment, but I only allowed an hour to be in the shop, which is normally how quickly they can get me in and out.
The man who usually does my manicure was not there, and another woman did the work in his place, and she was a little on the slow side, so what is normally a 60-minute service turned into a 90-minute service, and all I could think about was how that was going to throw my entire day off.
I’ve gotten into the habit of blocking things off on my schedule every day. If there is something that I have to do, it goes on the schedule, and I make a set time for it.
That nail appointment threw my afternoon schedule off yesterday. I recovered, because if nothing else, I’ve learned to be adaptable, but as I was lying in bed last night, I thought about how paranoid I got when they started going over the allotted time.
I flash back to a conversation I had with my best friend about how we get 86,400 seconds each day, and it’s the kind of bank account that you can only withdraw from, but not add to.
I’m growing to a point where I don’t want to waste the funds in that account. I want to make every second, minute, and hour of my day count in some substantial way.
I don’t feel guilty about the 90 minutes I spent in the nail shop. That’s a form of self care that I will not turn away from; I love pretty feet and hands, and they make me feel good about myself.
I’m just glad that the trip to the nail shop made me remember how important my time is to me, and furthered my resolve to not waste any of it.