Always.

The kitchen clock, my watch, the pips from the radio peeping the hour, preside over my hurry, your hurry, the hurry of widening rings of friends and strangers who soften and domesticate the infinite hard clockwork of the universe. Thus our orchestrated lives may be being emptied even as they are being enriched. The ever-greater efficiency of an ever-more-intimately-clocked world adds to our opportunities, but it also drives a positive feedback cycle in which we demand more of the world and the world demands more of us. This quickening of pace is evident in every aspect of our lives. We supplement the treadmill of work with a treadmill of pleasure – hurry seems to be a constant condition, even if the hurry is to catch a plane to go on holiday, to arrive at a concert on time, or to honour an engagement whose sole purpose is for a casual get-together. We are forever on the edge of being late, and any dereliction in this respect causes us anguish: we are mortified, and the others are impatient.

Read the rest at Philosophy Now. Thank you, Arts & Letters Daily.

I prefer Harrison's perspective ...

The clock stopped at 5:30
for three months.
Now it's always time to quit work,
have a drink, cook dinner.