I am aghast to discover that January is half over. How did that happen? Wasn't it Christmas about two days ago?
Sometimes I feel as if time accelerates in proportion to age.
But that's a depressing thought. Better to lay the blame for calendar misperception elsewhere--on retailers, for example. I do have evidence. My in-box is brimming with online Spring promotions, not to mention the Sears' Spring catalog that arrived mid December. Don't get me started on the Easter merchandise at the mall.
I'd like merchants everywhere to man up about calendar weirdness and take responsibility for speeding time. I'm tired of thinking I am the cause.
Until they do, or until I can come up with some other sort of explanation, I need a solution. I hate to feel that my life is whizzing by. But the only fix that makes sense is Do Nothing. If I retired completely, and refused to write anything in the little pink daytimer, I wonder if the cosmic clock would re-set itself?
Am I sufficiently brave or desperate to try this experiment?
Probably not.
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