Time is a Cat!

The Fantasy of the Colour‑Coded Calendar

We’ve all been there:
Staring at a planner, a Google calendar, a bullet journal, convinced that if we colour-code hard enough, time will finally behave.

• Meetings in blue
• Gym in green
• “Me-time” in yellow (which, let’s be honest, gets cancelled more often than a group chat plan)

The fantasy?
Time is a pet you can train.
Sit. Stay. Heel.

Reality?
Time is a cat.
It does what it wants, when it wants, and occasionally knocks your carefully stacked priorities off the shelf just for fun.

“Time management” is everywhere in self-help books, corporate training, and NHS workbooks.
But let’s be real: you can’t manage time.
You can only manage yourself within time.
And even that’s a bit optimistic.

We cling to the phrase because it feels like control.
If I can manage my time, I can manage my life.
Except… life keeps getting backed up.

• The inbox grows
• The laundry multiplies
• The deadlines pile
• The bullet journal judges you silently from the shelf

Time is not a spreadsheet.
It’s a tide.
And it doesn’t care about your colour-coding system.

Here’s where it gets fascinating (and slightly chaotic):

• In much of the West, time is linear: chopped into units, scheduled, guarded. Punctuality is sacred; lateness is a crime.
• In parts of Latin America or the Middle East, time is polychronic: fluid, relational, flexible. A meeting starts when the vibe is ready.
• In other traditions, time is cyclical: seasons, rituals, rhythms. The goal isn’t to “save” time but to live in step with it.

So, when we say “time management,” we really mean “Western, linear time discipline.”
Which is fine until you realise not everyone signed up for that contract.
And some of us would like to unsubscribe.

Here’s the cheeky truth:
No matter how many hacks you try, the backlog never clears.

• Inbox zero? It’ll be full again tomorrow.
• To-do list? Cross off one, add three.
• “Free weekend”? Suddenly filled with errands, birthdays, and IKEA trips.

Time has a sense of humour.
It keeps managing us, not the other way around.
The trick isn’t to win, it’s to stop pretending there’s a finish line.

Time isn’t just practical.
It’s emotional.

• Anxiety: the clock ticking in an exam hall
• Relief: the countdown to a holiday
• Grief: the sense that time has run out with someone you love
• Joy: the way an afternoon with friends disappears in minutes

We don’t just measure time.
We feel it.
And that’s why “managing” it is so slippery.
It’s like trying to hug fog.

Think of time as your worst manager:

• Piles on tasks without asking
• Ignores your pleas for flexibility
• Micromanages your mornings
• Disappears when you actually need more hours

And yet, you can’t quit.
Time is the boss you can’t escape.
The only option?
Change how you work with it or around it.
Possibly with snacks.

What if we stopped asking “How do I manage time?”
And started asking, “How do I want to feel at this time?”

• What rhythms actually sustain me daily, weekly, seasonally?
• Where am I pretending I can “catch up,” when really, I need to let something stay backed up?
• What if “falling behind” is just a different kind of pacing?

What if time wasn’t a resource to be managed, but a relationship to be tended?

• Instead of “saving” time, we could savour it
• Instead of “wasting” time, we could wander in it
• Instead of “losing” time, we could loosen our grip on it

Time isn’t a commodity.
It’s a companion.
Sometimes irritating, sometimes generous, always present.
Like a cat that occasionally sits on your keyboard.

Time will never sit when you tell it to.
It’s not a pet.
It’s not a spreadsheet.
It’s not a boss you can outwit.

It’s a tide.
A rhythm.
A companion.

So maybe the question isn’t “How do I manage time?”
But “How do I want to live inside it?”

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