Time after Time

I have bragged about my not having an addictive personality. I have never done drugs, I quit smoking 40 plus years ago, and I don't overuse a cell phone. However, I learned a long time ago that I was obsessed with time. I couldn't stand to be late, was a clock watcher in church, and was frequently anxiously straining at the bit in college classes that were not interesting enough to hold my attention. Time would pass painfully when I could glance down at my watch to see how many minutes had elapsed since my last glance. The result: I took off my watch, put it in a drawer, and haven't worn a watch in years. Clocks are ubiquitous so I am seldom at a loss to know what time it is. However, the benefits come, for instance, when I have been in a doctor's office waiting. So long as I don't know how long I've waited, I'm relatively fine. If I had a watch, I would have allowed myself to become frenzied and out of sorts. When I'm in a gym class, two of which I attend every week, I position myself so that I can't see the clock. I would even prefer that a car not have an odometer as I find myself counting off the miles when I'm traveling. Oh no, I think, I've only gone three miles since last I checked. As a retiree, I seldom set my alarm clock. I suppose I prefer to be time-less and mile-less. In these cases, ignorance is indeed bliss, at least for me.