Time

Time, they tell me, is a precious commodity.

Well, other peoples I guess. Because mine is apparently worth as much as a heap of dung. If I could figure out a way to quit my job and live in a cardboard box (see I'd find it easier to maintain, and judging from the derision heaped on me for **gasp** owning things it's about what I am allowed) I'd almost have to. My job and non-work life cut terribly into the amount of time I have to make phone calls and fill out forms. These things being the expected whole of my existence.