Daily Writing Prompt? How do you waste the most time every day?
This is a deceptively tricky question because it depends on how you define wasted.
They say time is precious, but who decides how it should be spent? Reflect on what others might call ‘wasting time’ in your day. Is it wasted if it gives you peace, sparks a thought, or simply lets you be? What about the things you do that don’t fit the productivity narrative but feel necessary for your soul. What if the real waste is forcing yourself to follow a script someone else wrote?
If you go by the standards I was raised with, the old-school, country-bred, clock-watching, don’t sit idle too long or someone will hand you a broom kind of thinking, then yes, I waste a shocking amount of time. I sit outside watching clouds move. I watch the trees lean in the breeze and guess which one will drop a leaf next. I listen to birds, and not in a “how productive of me to connect with nature” way, but in a “I can’t be arsed to move right now” kind of way. I daydream. I remember old conversations and imagine how they should have gone. I laugh at myself. I scroll through photos of my dog who’s long gone and still manage to have a little word with him, like he can hear me.
Some might say my worst offense is thinking. I spend too much time in my head, dissecting, remembering, imagining, replaying, creating new versions of old moments. I waste time wondering why people did what they did, what makes them tick, and why they can’t just be decent. But is it wasted, or is it healing in disguise? Is it wasted, or am I picking old splinters out of my soul before they fester?
I’m supposed to be doing “something” all the time. Something visible. Something that can be listed or tallied up at the end of the day. But my kind of “something” is harder to measure. I sit still. I listen to the house breathe. I let the past pull up a chair. I waste time choosing which shade of the sky I like best. And somehow, by bedtime, I feel a little lighter.
So maybe time isn’t wasted if it brings you back to yourself. Maybe it’s only wasted when you spend it doing things that grind your spirit down or make you feel smaller. Maybe the biggest waste is chasing expectations that were never meant for you in the first place.
I don’t believe in wasted time anymore. Not if it makes me feel human. Not if it lets me remember who I am under the noise.
So today, I’ll waste a little more. For me.
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