Not a fast computer. I decided recently that I wanted to spend less time at the keyboard, down from ninety minutes a day, six days a week. (I was already budgeted.) I cut out Saturdays, then cut down to three days a week, up to two hours. It seems to be working fine.
I have time to do other things. It’s appalling how quickly the keyboard takes up our hours. If I were writing a book, I would try to do it without accessing the internet first; it’s email, google and facebook that steal the time. I’ve cut back and will cut again the number of blogs and websites I follow. I don’t have time to read them all, and some of them don’t hold much interest to me. I was quite involved for a while in emergent church reading, but the Holy Spirit is not leading me that way, and it seems quite repetitive now. So does reading up on intentional community. I guess I’m like Wendell Berry – more interested in unintentional community.
Yesterday was a “no computer” day. I did six loads of wash (yes, with a machine) but only one load – the dog blanket and the kitchen rug – went in the dryer for dehairing. The rest went on the clothesline and the clotheshorse to dry. I got loads of exercise, too – up and down three flights of stairs with baskets, hanging and removing clothes in the yard. Nicholas likes to help with this. I did have a laundry mishap – I dropped a wet sheet and then stepped on it. Mud. Instead of rewashing it, I sprayed it with the hose. It still dried in a couple of hours.
I marinated pork for supper, cleaned the kitchen and made beds. I spent time with my husband, just talking. Knowing I wasn’t going to the computer, I didn’t even think about what I might be missing.
Tomorrow is another computer fast day. I may take Nicholas to the farmer’s market, and finish my new dress. I am so pleased with finding new time in my day. I think the problem was that I had started planning my day to start at the keyboard, rather than planning real work. And the ninety minutes started creeping into two hours or more, and I gave myself permission to go back later – which I no longer do. Once the computer account is closed, it’s closed until the next computer day.
I do this so I can be a real person, not a virtual person. It’s easy and tempting to be that better person on-line, the one who never reveals a flaw or a failing. We can delete anything unflattering or critical. Friends who criticize can be elminated with the push of a button. We can, in the mask of anonymity, flame and flare people. We say things we would never say to someone’s face. We can be very superior. We can become the Great Oz, even if we are only the man behind the curtain.