Time is a strange thing.  It runs slow when you are young or when you are waiting for timesomething good to happen and it runs too fast as you grow older or when you want to sleep but can’t.  It gives perspective and dulls memories.

It is something we never have enough of, yet we spend it as if we have an infinite amount.

Everything has a “time limit”.  Songs, television shows, and books are written about it.  We get paid by the “hour” and count things down to the “minute”.  We are obsessed with time but it is an oblivious obsession to many.

timerunIn almost four hours (3 hours and 50 minutes) I have to go pick my children up from their father’s house, where they spent the weekend. (72 hours) In a little over 12 hours I have to go back to work. (12 hours and 49 minutes) Where I will work a 10 hour shift with a 30 minute lunch.

At some point I need to “find the time” to sleep, go grocery shopping, hang my new set of wind chimes on the porch, wash clothes, and add at least another two hundred words to my work in progress.

It seems odd how something so intangible is so important and so abstract.  I think the David Tennant, playing the 10th Doctor from Doctor Who, described it best when he said:doctor wibbily   “People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it’s more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey… stuff.”

This post took 28 minutes to write. 😉    (I had cat interruptions.)


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