I still get emails with the latest news from the law world. As time marches on they become more alien to me every day.
For 26 years I worked with a timesheet always nearby. My time was billed by the hour, so it was important that I keep careful track of every task I performed, and how long it took. I would record the name of the client, the particular matter, a description of what I did, and the amount of time I spent (in tenths of an hour). My firm would use the timesheets to prepare bills to clients.
Some days the timesheet only had one item on it. For example, it might read “Acme Corp, X case, prepare for and attend trial (day 3), 14.6.”
But most days I did lots of tasks for multiple clients. A more typical timesheet would look something like this:
Acme Corp, X case, telephone conference with client re. status, .3
XYZ Corp, ABC litigation, review correspondence from opposing counsel re. discovery dispute, .2
Smith Inc., Jones matter, prepare motion to dismiss, 1.2
Etc. Many days I’d fill two or three of them with entries.
So yesterday morning I thought it would be fun (and maybe even humorous) to prepare a timesheet for a day on the farm, and post it on the blog. I set out with that in mind, but it wasn’t long before I lost track of time. That would have been a cardinal sin back in the day.
Without a timesheet at hand, and now four years out of the habit of keeping one, it seems weird to divide my day into ten minute increments. Maybe I’ll try it again sometime, but alas, no faux timesheet today.
My time used to be very “valuable” back then. Not so much now.
Yesterday morning, after coffee and a little internet time, I left the house at about 6:15. I fed the chickens and pigs, then began preparing for market. I picked squash, zucchini, cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, green beans, and watermelons.
After a couple of hours I took a break for breakfast. Instead of multiple cups of coffee and no food (as was my practice in the old days), I had a breakfast of eggs, new potatoes, watermelon and zucchini/blueberry bread–all fresh and from the farm.
And then I got back to work, without worrying about a timesheet.