Maybe I'm remembering wrong, but it seems to me that years are just as long now as they were when I was a kid. I'm probably remembering wrong. I have only the vaguest memories of my childhood, usually times I embarrassed myself in some unforgettable way. I remember moments, not years.
Months, on the other hand, are going by faster all the time. I can hardly get through one month before the next one is almost over. My monthly responsibilities keep me forever on edge, always looking forward to the next deadline. And there's always a deadline coming up way too soon.
Every week is different. Some race by so you can't even distinguish Tuesday from Thursday. Some creep by so it seems there are three or four Mondays and a couple of Wednesdays. Last week I escaped to a zone where I could tell one day from another by what I was asked to wear to dinner that night, or what the evening's entertainment was, or the name of the town I bought T-shirts in that afternoon.
That was a nice taste of the unreal world some people live in all the time. There's a sameness to most of my weeks, but that doesn't mean they all feel the same. This week has been a fast one, but I'm not completely sure of the reason. Either it's because I'm keeping busy, and everyone knows time flies when you're occupied, or else it's because I have so much to do that I know going in there won't be enough time.
Whatever the case, I can't believe we're heading into Thursday already. I also can't believe I didn't remember to do any laundry until today. And I really can't believe I haven't had a full, restful night of sleep since I got home, because I was so tired that first night. As a matter of fact, I'm still tired, but the weekend is coming. Fast.