Why is it that the time we spend doing mundane things passes so slowly, like we are in some sort of slow motion world where time is virtually still, but when we are having fun the hours fly by like jumping from a plane and not pulling the parachute cord.
It’s always Monday. Yeah yeah, I know, sometimes its Tuesday (and we ALL know bad things statistically happen to me on a Tuesday) but it seems to be a Monday morning a lot more than it is a Friday night.
Weeks melt into each other, sneaking past at a snail’s pace until you are slightly surprised it’s the weekend again, but a few weeks ago the week flew past like a rocket being launched at speed into the atmosphere. Why? Because Nerry was off to America on Saturday. No matter how I tried to slow it down, it was suddenly Friday night, and I didn’t want to go to sleep because then I didn’t have to wake up (at half five, adding insult to injury) to take her to the airport and lose my little star to a country that I so wanted to be in, and to people I adore so much (please note, not at this very moment when they are in possession of one little sister!!)
And now it is Monday again. Hi Monday, I would like to say it has been a while, but it honestly feels like it was yesterday.
The mind plays funny tricks, I know this to be true, but if someone could invent a way for the week to nip past at hyper speed, that would be grand.