Obviously the two World Series teams don't need a travel day to get from the Bronx to Queens. Anyone who's watched the games on Fox has been hammered with no end of useless information about transportation in New York. Well, it's useless if you live in California, anyway.

But I have to admit that I'm glad there's an off day for me to catch my breath. I get a little obsessed with baseball this time of year, and even though it will all be over by Sunday (if not sooner), I need some time to regroup.

Time. Is there less of it these days? Aren't the days about 22 hours long now? I still count seven days in a week, but I seem to remember a time when there were eight or nine. I know that's true, because I used to be able to get everything done and still have time left over.

It doesn't seem so long ago that I could get up in the morning, get my work done during the day, click around online or sit and watch TV at night, and get to bed early enough to be refreshed when I get up the next morning to do it all again. I don't think I'm doing all that much more now, but for some reason I'm staying home more and staying up later to get it all finished.

One way I know I'm using up all my time is that I don't have enough of it to do the things I want to do. I haven't sat down during the day and read a book for pleasure for weeks. I still try to read each night before I fall asleep, but by that time I'm so tired that it's a few pages I get through, instead of a few chapters.

And the last time I went to a movie was . . .

It's not as if I have as full a slate of responsibilities as people who have families making demands on their time and energy. I live by myself, and I'm always eager to make time whenever someone wants to spend an hour with me. So it's not that. Something else must be at work here?

Could I be slowing down? Maybe there's just as much time as there ever was, but it takes me longer to fill it. Or something. Nah.

On the other hand, I do seem to get distracted more easily than I once did. I can be working away and glance out the window, and lose track of the time I spend watching the birds, or just admiring the flowers and trees.

This afternoon I saw a magnificent red-feathered hawk light on a fence post at the other end of my yard. I've seen these birds many times soaring in the sky, or landing on high branches, but this one was at eye level. I watched for awhile, and then spent a half hour in search of my binoculars. (By the time I found them, the hawk was of course gone, but I wasted a few more minutes searching the trees for it.)

The one necessity of life that has gone by the wayside in all this wool-gathering is sleep. It never seems a high enough priority, especially late at night when it's quiet and there so many things I could be doing that require me to be awake. Sleep doesn't seem like such a luxury the next morning, though, when I can't indulge in it because I have to be doing something else.

It will all sort itself out, I guess. Somehow I'll come to terms with the shortage of time. What I long for most is time to do nothing. One hour a day would be enough. That's only possible if I make efficient use of the other twenty-three, but somehow it hasn't been working out that way. I need a better plan.

Let me just take a little time to think about it. . .