I remember when I was a kid — less than 12 years old — and always being both amused and puzzled by the way the adults would so often talk about "how fast time moves."
Maybe I related a little bit, when I thought about how short the summer holidays seemed to be... no sooner had we started to have fun than it was time to go back to school. On the other hand, time never seemed to move at more than a snail's pace when we were sitting in Mr. Loft's history class and he would drone on about some 1700's battle nobody cared about.
It is summer now, as I sit here in my little office, looking out across our sun dappled back yard, watching the grass lazily move in the evening breeze as we enter that famous "golden hour" when the light grows soft and the shadows lengthen.
Wasn't it just yesterday I promised to myself that I would try to write something every day for the month of July?
Wasn't it just yesterday I got so damn overwhelmed by doing bookkeeping for taxes that I broke my promise to myself and did not write anything.
For five days, in fact...
Time does, indeed, seem to move faster and faster.
In about six weeks I shall be having my 60th birthday... six weeks from now, will I be looking back to this day and pondering how six weeks flew by so quickly, from the day when I was pondering whether six weeks would fly by quickly?
Sixty...
That seemed ancient, when I was 10 years of age. I suspect it does, to pretty much all of us...
Now don't get me wrong!
I'm not complaining here, I am merely observing. I'm OK with the pace of time, and in many ways this whole Quarantine thing has resulted in my being more relaxed about existence than I ever have been. In some strange and twisted way, it feels a little bit like I was given a "hall pass" to not have to go out there and try to battle Greater Existence with quite as much fervor as the world typically expects of us.
I'm OK with that...
As Mrs. Denmarkguy and I enjoyed our afternoon coffee on the back porch, I remarked on the fact that my general distress and loathing over "doing bookkeeping for taxes" (as a self-employed person) is that all these dozens of hours of paperwork serve as little more than a reminder that I truly suck at everything I do, at least from a financial perspective. Actually, I'm very good at many things I do, but unfortunately not enough people care to where it makes anything.
In the end, I arrive at a result that says — in not so many words — that last year I made pretty much nothing at all but I still have to send in some hundreds or even thousands of dollars in self-employment tax... even though we've been solidly anchored below the poverty line for several decades.
I won't go into the details of how such a thing is possible; it's simply a reality of life for many people living in the 21st century in the US of A.
Honestly, I don't have any regrets.
Well... maybe this: When I was in my early 20's, I thought I might retire at age 60. At this time, it is very obvious that I will most likely never retire... but that's OK. I'd only be retiring from being a Professional Idler!
Hope you've all had an awesome weekend!
Thanks for reading!
How about YOU? Does time "slip away" from you, or are you an adept time manager? As we age, do you feel time moving faster? Are you OK with that, or do you feel you are "missing" something? Comments, feedback and other interaction is invited and welcomed! Because — after all — SOCIAL content is about interacting, right? Leave a comment — share your experiences — be part of the conversation!
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Created at 20200712 19:32 PDT
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