Losing Five Minutes

My computer wouldn’t load properly when I hopped on the bus this morning, so I’ve spent the last five minutes staring at a grey screen and Apple’s swirling beach ball of death as the computer reloaded and came back on line. I am, in a word, frustrated.   

It goes without saying it’s hard to concentrate when I’m frustrated. Along with the frustration, feeding it even, is the sense I should start writing the moment I find a seat on the bus.  

Get to work! 

I do have a schedule I aim to hew to, but if I miss five minutes—even ten minutes—of this morning will so much have gone wrong? And if missing five minutes of my routine on a nominal, average, dull morning is such a problem, mightn’t something more be amiss?  

It certainly would be preferable if five minutes here or there weren’t going make or break my day. Sure, there are days when I have places to go, people to see, planes to catch, etc. But it wouldn’t be preferable if the loss of five minutes didn’t send me into a tizzy? 

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