Hurry, hurry, hurry . . . wait, SLOW DOWN

December 1. Where did August go? That’s what I want to know. Twelve minutes ago, the sun was shining, the pool was open, school hadn’t started. Now, only twenty-something days until Christmas. If there is a theme to this blog it is my recurring incredulity about the swiftness of passing time. In other words, “where did the time go?” and “wait a minute, are the seasons changing again?”

My 6-year old says to me all the time, “You’re forty-three, right?” I don’t know why she constantly asks. She also ys, “So, you’re going to die before me, right?” which is sometimes followed up with “I will miss you when you’re dead.”

My husband remarked yesterday, “So, my life is half over, you know.” Unless he doesn’t reach 94. In that case, he’s more than half-way through.

But that’s the least of my concerns. Because Christmas will be here soon. Very soon. Too soon. But then, hey, it’ll practically be time for daffodils and that is one of my favorite times of the year. I need to plant the other bulbs that are sitting in a plastic bag on my bedroom floor. They will not bloom until I put the in the ground. (I ordered them from my son’s school fundraiser.) I have to plant the bulbs because TIME IS RACING.

No wonder I’m in such a hurry all the time. (I’ll tell you what slows me down: a little cold. All I wanted to do today after my work-shift was sprawl on my bed. Which is exactly what I did. I read, then when I finished my book, I tried to nap before my next shift began. . . . and the attempted nap guaranteed that my daughter would return, right on cue, to make sure I did not sleep.)

[Please insert concluding sentence here.]

The end.