Ticking Clock and The Poverty of Time

We got a funky new alarm clock that shines the digital time on the ceiling. It comes complete with soothing white noise sounds (wind chimes, babbling brook, sea) that are supposed to wake you up. I guess that works for people who sleep more than 5 hours a night, but I slept right through it this morning. So I started my day panicked about time and immediately went into the doom and gloom zone thinking about next week, when our family is supposed to leave by 8am to drop me at work so that my wife can take Mr. Man to school by 9am. For reference, Mr. Man and my wife have an average waking time of 8:30am this summer.

In another time zone, the ringing of my biological clock is making up for the failure of the new alarm clock. I'm ovulating and from deep in the core of me I feel a voice resonating in me to create life. The urge to suddenly begin humping something like an inappropriate dog is overwhelming. Being the fertile turtle that I am, I know best to stick to the double-X goodness of my wife. But the calling of the Y is intense.

But he will wait, much like my wife, since I suffer from a deficiency apparently coined poverty of time. My marketing textbook defines it as "a lack of time to do anything but work, commute to work, handle family situations, do housework, sleep and eat." How poor are you if sleep and housework don't happen very much, not to mention sex? The biological clock must be out to bankrupt me.