Really. Lately, it seems that I'm always running out of time, and I'm not sure what happens to the time I do have.

Granted, Elvis is coming home from work much earlier than he used to, so that cuts several hours off my evenings. On the other hand, he's left for work by 6:30 or 7 am, so that's two or three hours gained: in other words, a wash.

I have Portuguese classes twice a week, for two hours at a pop. On the other hand, I also had Italian twice a week, and I spent far more time travelling to and fro. Another wash. I'd like to say I spend a lot of time studying, but that just isn't true. I never seem to have the time.

There's the gym, of course. That's extra. And yoga, although I had yoga in Milan, and those classes lasted longer and took more time in transportation. But, they were in the evening, so that's something, too.

This apartment is bigger, and takes more time to clean. I spend less time with women's group activities. Grocery shopping is about the same, timewise. We go out less often during the week here. More at weekends, but weekends aren't really the problem. Here, I do not do my beloved long lunches that turn into happy hours and possibly dinner out at a restaurant.

I think I may have spotted part of the problem, though. This morning, I spent one hour on the toilet. Doing what, apart from the obvious which certainly did not take an hour?

I have no idea.

Perhaps I took a nap in there? All I know is that Elvis left at 7, I made another cup of tea and took it into the bathroom with me, and all of a sudden I'm flushing the toilet and it's 8 o'clock. So some of it clearly is this early morning stuff. I did used to get a lot done in the evenings, and I'm just not able to move quickly or think as clearly in the mornings.

I hope I get used to it soon. I seem to be frittering my life away, which I wouldn't have a problem with if I knew just what I was frittering it on.

We're having a party tomorrow. The first one in our new apartment, and I am psyched. I've been frittering away time deciding what to make, though. I'll do the usual bruschetta, dips, salsa, cheese plate, veggies, olives. If I can find a decent sausage or two, I'll do that as well. Portuguese sausage, I'm afraid, tends not to be very good.

Usually, I make a vat of something or other. But parties tend to start later here, and I don't feel like it, actually. I'd do chili if it wasn't so difficult to find decent ground beef. I guess you can have the butcher grind it, but it costs a fortune. Unfortunately for me, I get the impression Elvis has been telling folks that I'm doing something dinner-like, so I may be stuck.

Maybe I'll come up with something at the store today. I'm going to Continente, the hypermarket at the mall. The twist is that I plan to have my purchases delivered. A friend told me it costs 5 Euros or so, and that they deliver to Cascais, so it will be well worth it. On the other hand, my friend speaks fluent Portuguese. We shall see.

I hope I can work it out, because I also want to go to Conforama to get a small coffee table for my stereo. It didn't fit on the small bookcase I bought last time, so it's been sitting on the floor next to it, where I plan to put the small table. If I'm lucky, I'll end up with a sort of DIY entertainment center, and I think it will look nice. That is, if the small table I remember seeing really is the same color of wood and the correct size. It's possible that I've been the victim of wishful thinking. In any case, table or no table, the stereo will have to be hooked up by tomorrow night.

You can't have a party without music, you know, and my boom box just isn't up to the job.

Yesterday, I went to the fancy grocery in Estoril after class. They carry all sorts of imported foods that are hard to find here, like short grained rice for risotto and bruschetta bread. I needed some of that bread for our party, as well as other bits and pieces. I bought some Happy Mix!, which is pretty much like Chex Mix, but much happier. Really. In addition to the usual goldfish, there are stars, moons, and little smiling faces. It's kind of creepy, come to think of it.

I also bought some maple syrup while I was there. Nick the Easy Rider maple syrup, to be precise. The label has a picture of what is presumably Nick himself, riding a huge motorcycle that is probably supposed to be a Harley, but isn't. There's a little logo seal on it as well: "the AMERICAN way of life." Nick does pancake mix as well, but I gave it a miss.

It's not as good as the mustachioed cartoon German in lederhosen with a large stein of beer, though.

After I got home and put my groceries away (I just missed the train in Estoril and had to wait, which was annoying), I went back out to the grocery store nearer our house for more supplies. They had Nick's maple syrup, too, which I'd never noticed before. I also noticed that, for a limited time only, if you buy a can of snails, you get a free plastic container of clean snail shells. Yes! Fool your guests into thinking you went out and gathered fresh snails just for them! Although I'm not too sure if it would work, as the shells appeared to be laminated. It's almost a shame that we don't eat many snails in this house, although it's doubtful that I would actually take the time to stuff the little snail bodies into each shell. Much easier, I would think, to just buy a big bag of them at Jumbo and cook them yourself.

The portuguese love snails, though. They'll gather round a big platter of the things, prying the meat out of the shell with a toothpick. All the tascas put out big, hand-lettered signs-- We have snails!-- usually accompanied by a giant picture of a snail. For some reason, the snail always has a stupid grin on his face.