Two young moms in sweatpants and sneakers, pushing streamlined strollers, jogging in tandem, rounded the corner.
"I'm swamped! I need to clean the drapes, Michael's pulling extra shifts this week, and we're trying to get everything together to head south to see the family. I don't get a minute."
"I know what you mean," panted her partner, without breaking the rhythm, "I've got to get the girls to school by eight so I can get to work on time and I'm covering the front desk this week. It's crazy. If it wasn't for our run, I'd go nuts."
It is ludicrous to imagine two young mothers of 1805, adorned in Spencers and long dresses, convening on a muddy street corner to jog down the dirt road, pushing buggies. Yet, somewhere between that period and this ill-named "age of convenience," basic tasks started requiring appointment coordinators.
Yelo, a New York City enterprise has stepped to the forefront of our sleep-deprived populace, renting private rooms with "sleep pods" for quick naps during work breaks. For 15 clams, catch 20 minutes of shut-eye. Business is anything but sleepy; Yelo is opening three new stores in the Big Apple and looking at future expansion next year. Paying to sleep; what a concept.
We don't even have time for romance. Marriage counselors suggest couples schedule "intimacy dates" in light of the hurried schedules churning around both partners. Life has become so chaotic that if not for an appointment book, alarm clock, and a good lock on the bedroom door, we wouldn't even have time to make more of us!
My wife and I - obviously not on an intimacy date - were watching a documentary about rumspringa, the Pennsylvania Dutch word for "running around" used by the Amish to describe the period after an Amish child turns 16 and takes time to determine if he or she will become a part of the church. (The Amish believe you cannot be baptized until you are an adult, as you must come to the Church of your own free will.) Aside from the fact that I was bowled over by how wildly young Amish can party (seriously), I was also struck by the robustness of the young adults; not one seemed overweight or unfit. It makes sense: physical labor combined with a simpler lifestyle equate with enhanced health.
I'm not advocating we clop down Interstate Five with horse and buggy, or plan a Saturday night hoe down instead of watching a DVD (although it could be fun). On the other hand, it's hard to picture an Amish couple having to schedule an intimacy date after convening for a jog on their way home from the sleep pod.
Dawdling could be helpful. So, pull out your PDA; make an appointment to breathe. Allocate an extra 15 minutes and walk to the store. If you tire easily, you can nap at my house for free.
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Two young moms in sweatpants and sneakers, pushing streamlined strollers, jogging in tandem, rounded the corner.
"I'm swamped! I need to clean the drapes, Michael's pulling extra shifts this week, and we're trying to get everything together to head south to see the family. I don't get a minute."
"I know what you mean," panted her partner, without breaking the rhythm, "I've got to get the girls to school by eight so I can get to work on time and I'm covering the front desk this week. It's crazy. If it wasn't for our run, I'd go nuts."
It is ludicrous to imagine two young mothers of 1805, adorned in Spencers and long dresses, convening on a muddy street corner to jog down the dirt road, pushing buggies. Yet, somewhere between that period and this ill-named "age of convenience," basic tasks started requiring appointment coordinators.
Yelo, a New York City enterprise has stepped to the forefront of our sleep-deprived populace, renting private rooms with "sleep pods" for quick naps during work breaks. For 15 clams, catch 20 minutes of shut-eye. Business is anything but sleepy; Yelo is opening three new stores in the Big Apple and looking at future expansion next year. Paying to sleep; what a concept.
We don't even have time for romance. Marriage counselors suggest couples schedule "intimacy dates" in light of the hurried schedules churning around both partners. Life has become so chaotic that if not for an appointment book, alarm clock, and a good lock on the bedroom door, we wouldn't even have time to make more of us!
My wife and I - obviously not on an intimacy date - were watching a documentary about rumspringa, the Pennsylvania Dutch word for "running around" used by the Amish to describe the period after an Amish child turns 16 and takes time to determine if he or she will become a part of the church. (The Amish believe you cannot be baptized until you are an adult, as you must come to the Church of your own free will.) Aside from the fact that I was bowled over by how wildly young Amish can party (seriously), I was also struck by the robustness of the young adults; not one seemed overweight or unfit. It makes sense: physical labor combined with a simpler lifestyle equate with enhanced health.
I'm not advocating we clop down Interstate Five with horse and buggy, or plan a Saturday night hoe down instead of watching a DVD (although it could be fun). On the other hand, it's hard to picture an Amish couple having to schedule an intimacy date after convening for a jog on their way home from the sleep pod.
Dawdling could be helpful. So, pull out your PDA; make an appointment to breathe. Allocate an extra 15 minutes and walk to the store. If you tire easily, you can nap at my house for free.