Everybody’s good at something.

My personal best is jamming a dozen errands into an eight-hour day.

When I pass a Jiffy Lube, I wonder if I might be able to work an oil change in before the dentist, where I’m due in 15 minutes.

I can cram a trip downtown with intoxicating possibilities for detour– to the hardware store for epoxy, the PO for a Priority Mail box, the pharmacy for the perfect birthday card for my cousin in Kansas.

If time and space are kin, my day would look like one of those craft cupboards pictured on Pinterest – 1,400 tubes of acrylic paint, 1,200 paint brushes, and several reams of multi-colored construction paper jammed onto sagging shelves.

So compelling is the thrill of the chase that when my doctor, scheduling me for bunion surgery next month said five weeks no driving, I was stunned. I’d expected the pain. But five weeks with no errands?

Sure. Several kind friends stepped up. “We can run to the store for you,” they said.

But I suspect they were not thinking of doing this at my usual pace – five minutes from the bright idea till I pull into the Kroger parking lot.

So I decided to stock up ahead of time – only to discover that 36 rolls of extra-wide, Ultra-Soft Charmin won’t fit in my hallway closet.

“Try Amazon Prime Now!” someone suggested. (The Now is part of the name, not necessarily when I was supposed to try it.) I checked it out.

It was sobering to learn that if I’m willing to hold my horses for two hours, at no charge, I could have chilled wine delivered to my front stoop, along with the glasses to drink it from. Also, a 49-inch TV, 214 dairy, cheese and egg products, 84 kinds of chocolate, 72 kinds of produce…and I’m just getting started.

I should be elated, but instead I feel like a factory worker sidelined by technology. My errand-running skills have been replaced by warehouse workers near my zip code rushing around like frantic worker bees, carting products from place to place, getting them ready to rush out the door for this two-hour window.

In my fantasies, I’ve thought it might be fun to join them at the warehouse after my five-week sabbatical. Imagine the thrill of organizing so much stuff, the adrenaline rush of the two-hour window, the satisfaction of the perfectly packed box!

But from what I read, it’s grueling work with none of the errand-running highs I’ve grown to love.

Instead, maybe I’ll try savoring the time saved. With everything just dropped on the front porch, maybe I’ll finally learn to meditate, read more poetry or – egads! – binge-watch some of those shows my friends keep recommending.

At the moment, I’m making a to-do list of possibilities that don’t require driving: unwritten letters, unread books, unwatched movies, an unwritten genealogy on my father’s side, unmade edits suggested by my poetry group, an unwritten transition memo for a bar association….

The adrenaline is kicking in. It’s starting to get exciting. I’m not sure five weeks is long enough.

Copyright 2017 Pat Snyder