Let’s be real. If you asked the algorithm how people waste time, you’d probably get answers like doomscrolling TikTok, watching shows you barely remember, or spiraling through reels of people pretending to clean their house. Cute. But that’s not my flavor of chaos.
You see, in my world, “wasting time” comes dressed in silk—literally. My slow mornings start with a kimono, a strong coffee, and the kind of peace that no productivity app can track.
Sphinxes Don’t Shed, But They Do Rule Your Life
Meet Grazia—my furless feline dictator. She plays fetch with her toy mouse like a border collie in disguise, demands snack time like a Michelin inspector, and judges sparrows from the window like a tiny queen in exile. Oh, and her absolute favorite pastime? Burrowing under my hoodie while I attempt to do literally anything.
Threads of Sanity: The Embroidery Pile
Some people collect stamps. I collect unfinished embroidery projects. Six of them, to be exact:
- One gifted
- Two purchased
- One blackwork
- One cross-stitch
- And one full-blown masterpiece I designed myself.
Each thread is a time capsule from somewhere I’ve been—or somewhere I want to go.
The Ink of Patience
If there’s one thing more meditative than watching your cat judge you, it’s grinding your own ink. Yeah, I’m that kind of old-school. Diamond Sutra, Heart Sutra, The Analects—I know them not just from reading, but from writing. Stroke by stroke. Breath by breath.
Sometimes, I even practice Gongbi—that dreamy Chinese technique where cherry blossoms and bamboo float across the page… unless Grazia decides to leave her paw print on them first.
Rabbit Holes and Flight Routes
Let’s not forget my biggest time vortex: travel research. I fall in and don’t come out until I’ve mapped six itineraries across three countries—with side notes, snack plans, temple timings, and probably a backup plan if it rains.
And then comes the best part:
I document every single trip in notebooks. With sketches and glue-in ticket stubs. With scribbled captions like “Avoid fish sauce, tasted like betrayal” or “Mom tried to pet a duck—again.”
So… How Do I Waste the Most Time Every Day?
I guess the answer is: intentionally. I waste time the way a fox naps in the sun—with purpose.
Nothing about it is idle. Every stitch, every page, every grain of ink tells a story. And one day, I’ll pass these books of memories to someone else—so they can laugh, cry, and cringe at the chaos I called travel.
