3. Say goodbye before you say hello.
If solitary activities are hard for polychrones to end, social events can be absolute nightmares. Thinking you'll figure out how to disengage from a gathering when it's already in progress is like a gymnast planning to come up with the idea for her dismount halfway through an Olympic routine on the uneven bars.

Before you enter social situations, I suggest that you write yourself a little "dismount script," and rehearse it. Remember that you may have to say goodbye in several different ways before the tentacles of connection actually break: "Listen, this has been terrific, but I've got to run." "I'll give you a buzz next week, right?" "Okay, see you then!" "Take care!" Practice standing up and walking away as you recite these farewells. By the time you reach the door, even other polychrones will have resigned themselves to the fact that you're leaving.

4. Set up redundant reminders.
Polychrones need redundant "Stop!" reminders the way airplanes need multiple engines, each of which can fly the plane solo should the others fail. I set my alarm-clock watch to go off 15 minutes before I need to stop doing something. The alarm sounds every five minutes until I deactivate it, letting everyone know I need to leave (although one polychrone friend, hearing the beep-beep for the third time, burst out, "What does that thing want?").

If you're a true polychrone, get backup support from human beings to supplement mechanical reminders. I explain to everyone I deal with—co-workers, children, friends—that I'm transitionally challenged and they should call me on my cell phone if I'm even a few minutes late. Such calls often come in when I'm happily writing or rearranging the furniture. The monochrones in my life are so organized, they have no trouble remembering to remind me to show up.