It's "wondering Wednesday" and I have no question to be answered--at least not one that somebody else asked me. So I thought I'd ask myself something. Or rather, ponder the answer to a self-imposed question. (I'm known around town for talking to myself, because if I didn't tell myself what to do, I wouldn't know, would I? So of course, if I talk to myself, I ask myself questions. And sometimes I even answer them.)
Then I got to wondering what kind of question I could ask myself--er, ponder. And then of course, I got sidetracked into wondering whether I would get everything done this week that I need to get done, which evolved into a question. Where does all the time go?
I could get silly with this question--pondering whether time pours into all the cracks in the sidewalks and works its way down into the earth's core where it... Okay, it's way, way early, or maybe late, and I tend to get silly when I'm tired. Time doesn't literally slip into the sidewalk cracks. At least, I'm pretty sure it doesn't. But it's really slippery and squishes through our fingers when we try to grab hold of it.
I don't have a day job. I'm really very lucky to have writing for my full time job. And I'm very careful to protect my writing time. I tell people I work in the mornings, and it gets me out of a lot of volunteering. (I'd write in the afternoons too, if it weren't for my nasty predilection for falling asleep on top of it.) But there are still funerals to bake cakes for, and spouses (spice?) to spend time with, and grandboys to find Easter goodies for, not to mention books to read and movies to watch and nasty prickly weeds to pull from behind my rose bushes. And when the end of the week rolls around again, I'm always surprised it's arrived Again, already.
Where does your time go? Do you know?
Um, while you think, I guess I'd better go fix the jelly beans and Easter cards to mail to three little boys, and then I'm probably going to have to chase down my time and tackle it before it gets completely away from me. Wish me luck.