Two. Hours.

Okay, this is something that bugs me.

I am in a couple of women's groups (no, not that kind of women's group; we're not revolutionaries in any sense of the word and I think if you showed any of the other women in the group the word spelled "womyn," they'd probably pull out their Red Teacher Pens and correct its spelling).

Anyway, I'm also an officer in these groups. (Don't ask me how that happened. In a couple cases it involves the bad old, "But you don't have a husband or children to take care of" argument which I actually fell for).

So one of the groups had its planning meeting the other evening. (Yes, evening. I wanted afternoon but the other still-employed member doesn't get done with work until 6).

The meeting lasted two hours. Two stinking hours. In that time, we accomplished the necessary planning in probably about 20 minutes.

The rest of the time? Chatting, and one person sharing several rather hair-raising and borderline TMI stories. In the guise of "sisterhood." (DO NOT WANT).

I didn't say anything but I was getting really weary - I had put in a full day over at school, I was staring down another full day starting in less than 12 hours, I had not had any time to myself that day. And I'm sitting listening to stories about stuff I really would rather not know.

(Why, why, why do women do that? Why do they need to share detail of family troubles and gynecological problems and horrific crimes they've witnessed/been victims of with innocent-bystander women? I thought that counselors and therapists served that kind of function in our society).

And this is one of the things that irks me. And almost makes me wonder if I could find some graceful exit from the group...dealing with that kind of thing. The time bandits. The people who, because their lives are relatively unstructured, see nothing wrong with taking hours of other people's time to SHARE.

And yeah, maybe I'm being antisocial and curmudgeonly - but - I was tired, y'all. Tired and hot and thinking about how nice a shower would feel, and then getting into my pajamas and into bed.

Fortunately, most of the meetings are not like that. But sometimes they are. And I want to get up and say, "You retired folks...you stay at home moms....I know for you sometimes time out of the house and away from your husbands or kids is a welcome change. But as for me - I have to get up at 5 am tomorrow, I worked a full day, I am DONE with dealing with other human beings. All my words have been used up - I have no more to share. I need sleep to be able to restore my stock of patience and tolerance."

(As I said, there was one other "working woman" in the group....a local shopkeeper. And interestingly, she was as silent as I was. I'm willing to bet she'd used up her store of words and perhaps patience and lovingkindness for the day (if you're a shopkeeper, I bet you have a lot of days like that). I don't think she was fuming like I was but then again she probably didn't have to be at work before 8:30 or so [her shop opens at 10]).

But I don't know. Maybe this is how I am deeply antisocial and kind of neurologically atypical but I really, really, really cherish my quiet evenings at home and even though I don't MIND taking a half hour or so to do some planning - and maybe 20 minutes for small talk - I'm really not up for the hour's worth of hair-raising stories.

Sometimes I bemoan not having a BFF, because it seems like most of the other women I know do. But if being a BFF means being able to sit on my rump for hours, and do that strained smile-nod thing when someone is talking about something I really don't want to know about, maybe I'm better off with my hermit's life.

I didn't look at my watch the whole time - it was a small meeting and I was afraid of looking rude. So when I got in the car, and turned it on, I thought to myself, OK, what is Mr. Car-Clock going to say the time is.

And that's when I saw that 2 hours of my life had been drained away. And that's when I got a little angry, because at that point it was late enough (by the time I'd be home) that all I'd have time to do was go to bed, especially if I planned on getting up for my usual workout the next day.

I don't know. I like people but sometimes I almost feel like my diffidence and tendency not to say, "Why, oh why, are you sharing this horrible story with us?!? Why can't we just wrap it up and all go home?" means people take advantage of me a little bit and are time-vampires.