Did I tell you that I tallied all your days and metered all your minutes and you have no extra ones? No ‘wasted mornings’ or ‘smashed-up afternoons’. Every moment’s counted. Even on lie-in Saturdays your stopwatch watches you. And when your time runs out – be you jogging on your treadmill or jotting in your to-do pad – you’re coming home to me; did I tell you that?
Get cracking then. If a fine sunrise rouses you tomorrow, look, for you and I. When a rich smile greets you too, take time, repay the compliment. Then take your reluctant days by the scruff and wrestle them to the ground. Old cliché it is, but true: you have no time to waste.