Tick Tock, Pokey Clock; time to earn a paycheck. Tick Tock, Speedy clock; time to fix my lifewreck.
My life really isn’t a wreck, but my house is. My ToDo list would wallpaper a large barn, which is appropriate considering how much love abides under my roof.
What I’m concerned about is the inconsistency with which time moves. When I’m at work (the one away from what I do at home), time slows down. I looked at the clock at 1:18 on Wednesday afternoon. Three hours later, it was 1:43. But after barreling in the door at 3:50, I blinked and it was 4:59 and the dogs were begging for their supper.
“Time flies when you’re having fun.” True. When I went to Disneyland, the hours just rushed by and all too soon it was time to head home. However, sometimes time flies when you have too much to do. Sometimes I’m so busy at work that I think lunchtime has passed without even a visit to vending machine. But no, it’s only 9:45 and the rumbling in my stomach can’t be trusted. But when I’m at home, with a mountain of laundry and the good intention of writing a blog post between loads while scrambling up a healthy dinner, paying the bills, and bathing a dog, time flies too. I guess it sneaks right out the window, because I never catch it leaving.
Back in High School, I got in trouble for refusing to understand why people run in the rain. My professor said they run to keep as dry as possible. But consider driving in the rain. You’re sitting at a traffic light. Pit Pat on the windshield; the wipers chatter against the glass they’ve just wiped clean. The light turns green and off you go; the wipers barely able to keep up with the torrent of water attacking your line of sight. I insist: the faster you go, the more raindrops you hit.
Eureka! I’ve got it! “Time flies when you’re having fun or enjoying getting things done.”
The dryer just stopped. Not so for the clock.
