|The Potomac, from George Washington's back yard, 28 November 2014.|
I know, of course, that each year is the same length as all the others, plus or minus one day. So they all go by at the same rate, it's only our perception of how fast (or slow) time passes that changes.
We've all had that day at work which felt like it would never end. Each of us has, after what felt like an hour, glanced at the old time piece to discover that only five minutes had passed since the last time we checked. Those days drag on and on and seem to last for weeks. But intellectually we know that that day lasted precisely as long as that last day on vacation.
You know, the one where you wake up thinking of having this one last day before you have to go back to work and...
Beep, beep, beep...
The alarm goes off and you have to go back to work. Now. Vacation is over, fini, am Ende. Back on your heads, etc., etc.
Time passes slowly or quickly according to what we're doing and how much we're enjoying ourselves. Human nature I guess. As is whining about elections.
Sorry, couldn't help myself. Not gonna talk about that. At least not today.
Truth be told, I'm exhausted and looking forward to the holidays. Days in which I will (for the most part) not have to get up early. I really don't like getting up early. It's not that I don't like mornings, they're pretty nice actually, it's the "you have to get up" thing that I don't care for.
During a week off, I might get up early just because I'm not sleepy anymore and it feels like I want to get up. So I do. It's easy when there are no schedules, no deadlines, no pressure.
Am I looking forward to retirement (for the second time)?
Yes and no.
I'll miss the pay and the people (most of 'em) that I work with. Yes, I'll miss that.
I won't miss the nine to ten hour days. The days where nothing goes right. And the days where the damn phone won't stop ringing.
Won't miss that, not at all.
Oh, here's a little secret of mine, I really don't like talking on the phone. Not sure when that happened but I am not a big fan of Mr. Bell's invention.
It probably happened when I was in the Air Force. If your phone rang it was usually one of two things. Something was broken and the caller wanted me to fix it, or there was some sort of perceived problem which the caller somehow thought I knew something about.
Which I would handle with great grace and aplomb...
So Paul, that's why I haven't called. Telephones are my kryptonite.
No, really. We hates them.
Nasty stinking telephoneses... We hates them! Gollum, gollum.