“Killing time” is a weird phrase when you think about how little of it you get.

Language leaks what people actually believe. Treating an afternoon as something you kill makes it sound like surplus, an inconvenience sitting between the parts that count, when it is the same stuff the good hours are made of. Boredom is real and waiting rooms exist, so none of this is about squeezing value out of every minute. It is about noticing that you talk about your one finite supply like it is in the way.

Catch yourself using the phrase this week, then name what you are really doing: resting, waiting, or avoiding something. Any of those is honest. The trouble starts when you cannot tell which one it is.