We’re Giving Up Two Months Per Year

A call for less screen time and more “big round hours”

This statistic stopped me cold: Americans, on average, spend four and a half hours a day on their phones. That adds up to two months a year staring at a little screen. Yikes. The real world is scary, sure, but things aren’t much better in there. Do people really scroll through a quarter of their waking hours?

Then doubt kicked in: Oh, no … do I? My phone suddenly looked ominous. Within it lurked a screen time app with a hard truth to tell. What was my number? It wasn’t much better: three and a half hours a day. Looking at that report felt like waking up to empty wine bottles lying about. 

I’m not anti-tech, nor do I want to be. Most of my job titles have included the word “digital.” I don’t regret a second of podcast listening, not a moment spent with Ezra Klein or Latif Nasser. I can’t drive without my Spotify playlists. But Instagram? Do I need to spend (checks screen time report) 1.5 hours a day looking at funny dog videos, searching vegetarian recipes, and bookmarking travel destinations? Do I need to check the news hourly, as if Congress will call at any moment to seek my input on policy? Eventually, phone time brings diminishing returns.

While I wasn’t prepared to choose the nuclear option—the flip phone—I needed guardrails. It seemed reasonable to trim screen time by an hour a day. It’s a minor sacrifice with a big payoff: seven extra hours a week, more than two weeks of found time a year. What would be the best use for this time? Maybe a class? More workouts? A new client?

What I chose: nothing. I’d do more things that look like nothing.

We live in a culture of life hacks and perpetual self-improvement. I’m as guilty as anyone. I track everything from Peloton rides to meditation sessions. I love a webinar, which may be the nerdiest thing I’ve said in a lifetime of saying nerdy things. The time comes, however, to just do nothing already. In Bird by Bird, author Anne Lamott uses a phrase to describe time well spent: “big round hours.” I need more of those. I’ve never had a big round hour while holding my phone.

Last month, I traded seven hours of screen time a week for seven hours of nothing-much time. I met co-workers for coffee—not to network, just to chat. I looped and re-looped Evergreen Nature Preserve with a friend. I joined a book club. My husband and I caught a band at Common Market and some sun on the Burial Beer rooftop. I lounged on the couch with my dogs and a novel and napped between chapters. None of these things gave me an edge at work or in the gym; nothing warranted a line on the resume or a brag on social media. But they ranked among the highlights of my month. Big round hours.

A recent Instagram post (irony alert) argued that Europeans have wonderful third places to gather, while Americans mostly have just home and work. The video contrasted scenes of Parisians lounging at cafés and Romans gathering in town squares against shots of sad, solitary Americans walking through parking lots. This is unfair. If anyone wants to argue the superiority of European public transit, family leave policies, or bread, I’ll paint a Union Jack on my face while waving a French flag. We’re beat there, easily. But third places? Charlotte has plenty. Go to Rosie’s Coffee & Wine Bar any evening, and you’ll find plenty of company beneath the string lights. Go to Freedom Park on a weekend, and you’ll see soccer games, birthday parties, and yoga classes. Go to Vaulted Oak Brewing after work and you’ll find … well, probably my husband and me. Camp North End! Whitewater Center! The library of your choice! Wonderful third spaces.

This isn’t a matter of places but time. It can be hard to justify big round hours, to prioritize being present over being productive. We say we don’t have the time—and I’ve said that, too. Maybe we have more than we think, though. Maybe your phone will tell on you just like mine told on me. If so, I highly recommend trading some screen time for nothing-much time. Somehow, trading something for nothing might be the life hack for our moment.

See you at Vaulted Oak.