Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Time Isn't on Anybody's Side

What's up with Tuesdays?  Why are they so insufferably long?  Even if I'm doing something I like to do (which I'm not) or even if I have a lot of work to do (which I don't) they always seem to be about 12 times longer than Mondays.  And on a day like today when I have no work to do and there's red velvet cake staring me in the face.  . . . .well, it's not pretty. (but delicious)

If Einstein was right (and I have trouble believing that anybody with hair like that knows what they're talking about) and time isn't really real, just some concept we came up with, then I think we should have more say in how it works.  Of course, we also came up the concept of our government and we're supposed to have a say in how that works too, so never mind.  But I still find time frustrating.

Why does it go so fast when you're having a good time and so slowly when you're not?  That seems a very Catholic way of controlling time to me. Maybe that's where they came up with Catholicism in the first place.  "Hey the passage of good times speed by and bad times last forever, so let's make up a religion like that!"  Doesn't make any sense, but nothing about being a Catholic ever made much sense to me.   Or maybe the Catholics invented time.  I wouldn't put it past them.  Any religion that makes their leader wear a hat like that can't be coming from a sane place.

And then there's that thing where it appears to stop or go in slow motion when something awful happens.  I have a good friend who falls a lot. (Actually, so do I, maybe that's why we've bonded.)  The last time she fell (Saturday) she said she felt it was happening in slow motion.  Well, that's not right!  If an iron gate is going to fall on top of you, let's get it over with as quickly as possible!  And don't get me started on childbirth. (Seriously, wear a condom, for Christ's sake.)   Shit, if you have to push a watermelon out of your hooey it should be over and done within a matter of minutes, not stretched out for endless hours!  It really hurts.  A lot.  And eating an ice cream sundae, one the few pleasures in life I still partake in, cannot be lingered over or the damn ice cream will melt--this is not right!  I have had enough!!!!


 As soon as I figure out how.  Where's Einstein when you need him?

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