Tarrou, one of the most thoughtful characters in The Plague, poses this question in his diary. His answer is deceptively simple. We waste time not by doing the wrong things but by failing to notice what we are doing at all.

Think about how many hours vanish without a trace. Not because we spent them badly, but because we spent them unconsciously. The commute you cannot remember. The meal you ate while scrolling. The conversation where your mind was already somewhere else. These moments did not register because you were not really there for them.

Awareness does not require us to fill every minute with productivity or meaning. It simply asks us to show up. Even waiting in line becomes something real when you are actually present for it. The boredom you feel, the weight of your bag, the murmur of voices around you. These sensations confirm that you are alive and that this moment, however ordinary, is yours.

The paradox Camus points to is that the moments we rush through or try to escape are the very ones we lose. And the moments we inhabit fully, even the dull ones, become part of us.

Pay attention today. Not to anything special. Just to whatever is already happening.