i dropped off the torture machine somewhat guiltily (?) and picked up the art of the wasted day. my dad would always say up and at 'em! the day's a wastin'! so i once was shamed by a wasted day. but i've come to learn what is deemed productive is generally the gravest waste, and what is deemed a waste is often art. 
i realized that since i have a similar body, a off register print of his genetics, i may have only twelve years left to go, about mister's present age. i agree with dad now, in my own dialect, there is no time to waste- on making money you can't spend- and not spending time with the kids, it's a shame. of course, he knew that too, in his twilight years too late.