Time is so not of the essence.

Its 11:27am on Monday, July 20, 2009, and I know that. I hate that I know that.

Last week – lets say, last week at this exact same time - I had NO IDEA what day or date it was – let alone time of day. I knew that it was July. Mid-July.

Even though I was only 5 days into my vacation, I had miraculously erased all ‘real world’ ideas from my stream of consciousness. I’d also been doing a little bit of drinkin’ over said 5 days – which only magnified the blurriness, as every night seemed like a Saturday night.

It didn’t take long for me to lose all bearing. In fact, it took one night. We arrived on Nantucket on Thursday, the 9th at around 5pm. At which point, we settled in, BBQ’ed with friends, breathed salt air, and went to bed. The next morning, I woke to the sound of waves, seagulls and the occasional Gertie snore. The sun was blaring in through the windows that covered three of our four bedroom walls, and I was officially awake. I thought, maybe, it was 9am.

It was 5:30. For those of you non-crazies who enjoy a glass or 12 of wine, such as myself – you know that naturally waking up at 5:30am falls into the ‘never happens’ category.

When I looked at the nautical clock on the wall, I was like a shocked cartoon character – my eyes yo-yoed out of and back into my head. I then assumed that the clock was broken, and merely decoration. It was not. I was up at 5:30am ON MY VACATION.

Turns out that just as nothing good ever happens after midnight, great things happen before 9am. This, I’ve never realized, given that if I’m awake before 9am on any given day, “awake” must be in quotes.

But it was 5:30am, and I was AWAKE awake – and not from the night before! More alarming? Chris was up, too. Gertie was still in a coma.

So with nothing else to do, we got up, took Gertie for a long walk/swim/ball-playing extravaganza on the beach, came home, went to town, got coffee, went to the grocery store, came home, put everything away, cooked breakfast, ate breakfast, put suits on, went back to the beach, and settled in with a book. For all intents and purposes, and in comparison to life as I know it, it should have been 2 in the afternoon at that point - at least. It was 9am. People in New York were just getting to work, and I felt like 3 days had passed in one morning.

At that moment, I took my watch off, and didn’t see it again until last night when I unpacked.

I know it to be true, but I never really realized how much of my life is completely governed by the clock. I live on a ridiculous schedule – and I’m the one that hates to make plans. I shudder to imagine what it must be like for someone with a legitimate agenda.

I mean, when that alarm clock goes off in the morning, I have the time I have to do everything I need to do – down to a science. This is a pretty giant accomplishment for an English major. 10 minutes snoozing, 5 minutes dressing, 2 minutes brushing teeth, 45 minutes walking dog….and so forth. I walk to work, and even that is down to an art. If I’ve got time, I leave with 10 minutes to spare. If I’m running late, I know I have 7 hauling-ass-minutes to get there. It gets down to seconds, in the end – and I am aware of every one that passes.

At lunch, I have a certain amount of time to get home, a clocked amount of minutes to walk Gertie, and if there’s a long line at the place I like to get lunch, I’m skipping lunch – because I don’t have the time.

Time, time, time, time, time. It wasn’t until last week that I realized that time tells me when to do everything…and I love it when time shuts the @%!^&%# up.

For 10 days, I told the time of day by the sun - as if I was living in ancient Greece, and using my shadow as a watch. And no, I had no idea what I was doing (aside from burning my retinas on occasion). But it was great – the position of the sun in the sky gave me a vague idea of whether I:

- Was still out during peak sunburn hours
- Was allowed to have a cocktail without seeming like a drunk
- Had enough time to shave my legs in the shower without missing the sunset

Turns out, these approximate ‘times’ are really all I needed to know.

In the mornings, I woke up when my eyes opened. I ate when I was hungry. Drank when I thought it was after noon. Played all day until I was done playing, and then I would walk, or read, or sit and stare. If I had something ‘planned’ for that night, I would wait until it was dark – and then I’d go do it. And since I haven’t mastered the art of “reading the position of the moon”, I’d pretty much just stay out until I was kicked out. OR, I sent myself home once things started getting weird – which signals the passing of midnight (See: my theory on things that happen after midnight).

For those of you who may not know – this way of life is the way that God intended. Well, that and wearing underoos made out of fig leaves, which – for the record – I cannot get on board with. Itchy.

I suggest that everyone does this at least once, if not 100 times during the course of their lifetime. Find a beach house with no TV, no Internet, no neighbors (and therefore no tanlines) – and lose anything that tells time. Its truly amazing how liberating it is, how long a day truly is, and how there’s no judgment in cracking a 10am beer.

That said, when Chris’ alarm went off at 8am yesterday, there was an odd comfort in that wretched sound. Granted, that alarm was the sounding bell indicating the official end to our vacation (we had an early ferry) – but it was also brought me back to a place that I didn’t miss, but I desperately need to be: reality.

The closer to New York we got, the farther away from Cloud Nine I felt – and I spent every moment of that drive both appreciating my experience, and appreciating its perfectly timed end.

All things considered, if my real life was my vacation life, here’s why it would be a disaster:

- I’d be morbidly obese. I have an unusually large appetite for someone of my frame, which means I’m generally constantly hungry. If hunger was my trigger to eat, I’d be eating all day. You do the math.
- I’d eventually miss daylight all together. Every day that we were there, we woke up later, and later, and later. Given enough days of this, and I’d become a vampire. Which would only be cool if I was married to that dude from Twilight. Which I’m not. Unfortunately.
- I’d have a legitimate drinking problem. Who’s to say its not 5 o’clock?
- I would never be able to watch Scrubs reruns.
- I’d miss brunch and baseball games – because either could happen at any time of day.
- I’d be even later to everything than I already am. Which means I’d have no friends.
- I’d have to find a job with no hours, no deadlines, and absolutely no dress code. These jobs employ .0001% of the world’s population. I’d have better luck with the Lottery.
- I’d miss my watch. It is from my Dad. He’s the best.
- I could never live in New York. And although the City’s wake up call isn’t exactly waves and seagulls, I think I’d really miss the sweet song of sirens.
- I would never make the most of my time, because I'd have so much of it.

But that's what makes vacations so necessary - they end.

So on that note, this is my “Do Yourself A Favor.”

Do Yourself A Favor and get away. Forget about time. Don’t make plans, reservations, or promises. And enjoy it.

Because the fact is – you can ignore time as long as you want, but you cannot stop it. It will eventually find you. And when it does, you’ll be glad its back.

But -- you’ll still hate Monday.