The Equalizer and Me: A Confession

The Equalizer and Me: A Confession

Sometimes I worry that after I die I’ll find myself in an office, sitting across from a man who has a printout showing how I spent every minute of my life. He isn’t using the information to decide my fate. He’s just doing some research on the gulf between who we are and who we claim to be.

“Now, you claimed to be passionately interested in literature,” he says, “and you believed that Tolstoy was the greatest writer who ever lived. But I see here that you spent a total of 260 hours in the company of Tolstoy—300 hours if we count the time you spent reading biographies and criticism—whereas you spent more than a thousand hours in the company of someone named David Letterman. How do you account for that?”

I wouldn’t know how to answer. How can I account for the amount of time I waste staring vacantly at the garbage on TV?