My wife takes a scalpel to her schedule and carves up blocks of time. First to go are the hours she spends teaching Japanese, the hours she rides the commuter train, and then the additional hours and hours she uses for preparation.
Next comes the daily care for her bedridden mother -- cooking, feeding and so on -- followed by the equal attention she gives us awkward men, her husband and sons, who in the endless regimen of housework support her more with good intentions than actual effort.
Last comes her private time . . . the rushed meals, the hot baths that seldom last as long as she likes, and then the five or six quick hours of sleep per night.