Having dreamed of typing on a typewriter -- and being a bit rusty at it -- I awoke thinking ridiculously that old age might be an OK thing ... if only it were a part-time job. Maybe you could do it three or four hours a day and then take up other, less imperative, activities.
But of course life is not a part-time job, however hard anyone might try to segment and separate its facets. It's full-time all the time.
And that made me wonder if there is ever such a thing as a part-time job, a part-time activity, a part-time life. As the dusty refrigerator magnet insists, "Life is what happens while you were busy making other plans." Planning parties, planning to cook, planning to go to Kathmandu, planning a hot date, planning to brush your teeth, planning to read the next word.
Maybe it would be best to make planning a part-time job ... just two or three hours a day, perhaps, while leaving the rest of the day free to simply live this life you couldn't avoid living in the first place.