Or a subtitle could be, who shortened the days?

Honestly, 24 hours used to be so much longer than it is now.

When I was a kid, summer days went on and on. I had time to ride my bike everywhere. I organized clubs and even wrote by-laws for them. I put out a magazine for my friends and charged a nickle a copy. (This was in the days before copy machines. I used something called a hectograph or jelly pad. With every page, the jelly had to be melted down and allowed to dry before a new original could be put on it for printing.) I wrote plays and neighborhood kids performed in them.

I went to the library once a week and checked out 10 books at a time–and read them all. We did fun things with our families, picnics at the park, made ice cream when the relatives came over. We went to the movies every Friday night.

After I grew up and married, during the summer months the kids and I would quickly do all the chores, pack a lunch and drive to the beach where we stayed until time to come home and make dinner.

Even when my family kept increasing, I did the laundry nearly every day, kept the house clean, had a Blue Bird group that turned into a Camp Fire group and then a high school Horizon Club. Over the years I also had a lot of jobs–worked for the phone company between and during pregnancies and still managed my home and family. Hubby was in the Navy and was off in many different places including three tours of duty in Vietnam during the war.

I took kids here and there, served in many offices in PTA from newsletter editor, secretary and four years as president. And yes, I even did some writing besides the newsletter, plays for my Horizon Club girls to perform in.

Finally we had five kids, hubby was retired after 20 years of service and went to work for Sears. Youngest boy went to kindergarten and I taught at a school for developmentally disabled pre-schoolers in the mornings and went to college at night. And that’s when I started writing my first book.

Children grew up. I planned weddings, cooked food for the receptions, took care of grandkids, still did all the house things and worked. And yes, I wrote every chance I got.

We moved and hubby and I took over a home for six developmentally disabled women. We cared for the women, I did lots and lots of laundry, cooked many meals, took our ladies to the doctor, to the movies, to church, bowling–and did lots of required paperwork. And I wrote. My first book was published during this time.

We also provided a home for different grandkids over the years and did all the school things required for them. My mom lived next door. We had all sorts of family celebrations including a big party for her 80th birthday and over 100 people came. I planned and fixed all the food.

Now we’re retired. Have another adult grandson living with us. I don’t have to do all the things I did when we had our residential facility. I still get up early. I don’t have to do nearly as much laundry. I only clean hubby’s and my bedroom, bathroom and my office as my son and daughter-in-law do the rest.

We try to go to the movies and out to eat once a week, but we don’t do anything very exciting except promo events.

Now here’s the problem, I don’t have near the time to write as I did all those years I did so many other things. What happened to the time? I should have lots more than I did back then.

Anyone have a solution for me?

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com