Sunday night already? We work our way through the weekdays yearning for the weekend and then it’s here and gone again in less time than it takes to perk a pot of coffee to drink with the Saturday morning paper.
I don’t get it. I don’t understand time. When I was a child a day was endless. I ate and napped and played the hours away, unaware of time until I received the five-minute pre-bedtime warning. But as an adult I’m stunned at the progressive speed with which my days keep shrinking. Twenty-four hours are twenty-four hours. How can the length of a child’s day be different from mine? Einstein’s theory suggests it may have something to do with time dilation… the difference in time being due to differing perspectives.
Time may be just an intellectual concept but at the rate it’s passing I’m wondering if there will be any of it left when I reach my venerable dodderage. Or at that point will I wake up, acknowledge it’s morning, and then roll over and go back to sleep because it’s already night again? Maybe if I become senile and return to child-like ways my days will begin to get longer?
This is much too cerebral for a Sunday evening. I think I’ll head for bed. It may be morning before I get there.