There's a great line somewhere in the lone, lamented season of My So-Called Life, when Angela grouses something about the sound of that 60 Minutes stopwatch ticking your life away, every Sunday night. Sadly, that is one of the things that doesn't go away after high school. The entire day seems to have slipped through my fingers like water, even though I've knocked off a bulleted list of tasks much like last week's. I mopped floors, I pruned the blackberries away from the concrete steps down to the alley behind my house so that taking out the trash is no longer a death-defying feat. I even took an hour's nap, this afternoon! I even had my mother over for dinner! I just gave myself a pedicure!
But now here I am, slipping another blog post in under the wire. Laundry is tumbling in the dryer, buttons clanking; the dishes are done. And yet Monday and the work week loom on the horizon, tromping in like Godzilla. The weekend was hot and sunny and lazy and busy, and like all of them, never long enough. Tick, tick.
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