ABSTRACT
A Time Study: M.K., age twenty-seven, architectural draftsman. Education: Architectural College, Budapest (Foiskola). Married: husband is an architect. Two children: boy two, girl seven. The family has a nice two-room apartment and a Fiat. Both parents work in Budapest. The husband frequently works late at his job.
5:45 M. wakes up, turns off the alarm clock quietly so as not to disturb her husband. She goes to the bathroom, takes a quick shower.
6:00 M. wakes her husband and while he's shaving she puts on the coffeepot and spreads two pieces of butter on his bread.
6:10 M. unmakes their two beds. (Bedding is always put away during the day in Hungarian apartments to convert beds to sofas for daytime use.)
6:15 M. wakes up the two children, bathes her son, supervises the dressing of the two children and puts away their bedding.
6:55 M.'s husband leaves: officially he works from 7:30 to 4:30 five or six days a week.
7:00 M. prepares the children's breakfast, feeds them, eats a slice of bread herself, washes the dishes, makes a sandwich for her daughter and at 7:45 sends her off to school.
7:50 M. presses her blouse, puts on her make-up, bundles up her son and leaves the apartment.
8:00 The nursery is luckily only ten minutes away by bus. At 8:00 she is waiting for the crowded bus; son in arms, she pushes her way up the steps (luckily again, an old man offers her a seat). At 8:15 M. drops her son off at the nursery and rushes on foot in another direction toward her office.
1628:30 M. starts work.
12:15—12:45 Lunch. (During the day there are two coffee breaks.)
5.00 M. finishes work. Twice in the afternoon she called her daughter to make sure she got home all right and is doing her homework alone as she is supposed to.
5:15 M. picks up her son at the nursery.
5:20 M. shops at a big food store with son in one arm, handbag and food basket on the other. (There are no pushcarts in most Hungarian food stores and in the rare instances when they are provided, there is not enough room to use them in the ever-crowded narrow aisles.) She buys a few items for dinner (2 liters of milk, butter, frozen meat patties, green beans, bread for breakfast, cooking oil and orange juice for the children. She leaves the store at 5:55. Meanwhile a defectively sealed plastic bag of milk has spilled on her coat and her son has dropped and broken open open a box of chocolates. She pays for everything without a word. She's used to it.
6:20 M. arrives home with her son. Her husband telephoned that he'll be home by 7:30. It's a rare occasion when he finds both an unoccupied and functioning phone.
6:30 After changing clothes, straightening out the mess her daughter has made in her absence while fixing a snack, M. begins to fix supper. The milk is boiled, the beans are thawed, onions chopped, and table set. Dinner is ready at 7:20.
7:25 M.'s husband arrives home dead-tired. He gulps down a shot of brandy, and they sit down to supper.
7:50 After supper, the two children and their father watch the nightly "Bedtime Story" program on TV. M. opens her second pack of cigarettes.
8:00 Table-clearing, dishwashing, floor-mopping.
8:30 M. starts the children's bathing routine.
9:00 M. reads the children their bedtime story, making sure that the door to the other room is carefully closed so as not to disturb her husband who is studying for a language exam that will mean a 15 percent increase in salary.
9:15 Lights out for the children.
1639:20 M. begins to wash by hand clothes to wear the next day. Clothes are washed and hung up by 10:05.
10:10 M. begins to iron her husband's shirts and her own clothes for the next few days.
11:00 M. makes up their beds and goes to the bathroom to get ready for bed. She also does her nails.
M.'s husband goes to bed.
M. collapses in bed, sets the alarm clock, smokes her last cigarette, and tries to mumble a few coherent sentences to her husband before dropping off to sleep.
2:00 M.'s son throws up. Pajama, bed-linen change. Tucks him back in bed.
3:08 M. falls asleep the second time. Getting-up time is two hours and 37 minutes away... .
