I just returned from a weeklong canoe trip where the most advanced electronic marvels were the two $6 watches I bought, having learned on previous trips that fault tolerance is necessary for new-fangled electronic gear like a battery-powered watch. Out there, water gets hauled in from the lake, we gather firewood for cooking and we either paddle or carry the canoes everywhere we go.
Now that the trip is over, I should have it made. Office equipment does the work for me. The heaviest thing I lift is a phone, and even my motion while I'm sitting in my chair is aided by a marvel not associated with canoes-the wheel.
But back in the office barely a day, I'm already exasperated by the slow speed of my PC, aggravated by slow modem rates and overwhelmed by a pile of faxes.
The irony of it is that all this equipment has been designed to make my life simpler and more efficient. Time-saving products, they're called. Somehow, it's the revenge of the Luddites that all the labor-saving/time-saving equipment of the postwar era have made spare time a precious commodity to most Americans. We long for downtime the way Third-World women with wash-boards dream about a washing machine. A time-saving washing machine.
I've been wondering what went awry with labor-saving devices since touring a museum where they had several old automatic washers, etc., along with the original ads for them. One ad extolled the great time savings of a vacuum cleaner, certainly an attractive idea to those who had to haul carpets outside and beat them. And many things since-PCs, faxes, modems and others-all boast that they get work done much more quickly.
All I want to know is, what happened to the time they save? I easily save an hour by using a PC instead of a typewriter, a half hour by using a cell phone instead of stopping at a phone booth, another half hour by sending some e-mail messages instead of calling and leaving voice mail. And voicemail saves the time of calling back over and over again. Microwaving and speed dialing save more minutes every day.
I should be able to sleep 'til 9 every day and take Fridays off. Instead, I'm hurrying to meet deadlines, meet people and do many other things. The only time I get to use my hammock is when I go canoeing and don't have any time-saving equipment.
My hammock's now stashed away, but I think maybe I'll get to use it before I return to Boundary Waters next summer. They tell me my computer system will soon be upgraded to something that cuts processing time in half. So I should be able to sneak out and hang it in the back yard. Hopefully, the time I save will add up before snow falls.