As a child I thought my grandmother was a bit strange because she complained about how fast time went. Fast? It was forever until cookie time. That was then. Now time passes so fast I feel wind burn.
I have to prioritize. I have to learn to say no because no one will say it for me. I have to stop worrying about things that probably won't happen - skip to the worst case scenario, figure out how to handle it and let go.
A friend handles her worries by writing them on slips of paper. She puts the slips into a special box, which she calls God's mailbox, and then she lets go.
Instant coffee, two-hour photo, same-day dry cleaning all feed our need to get things done fast. Computers, e-mail and cell phones further feed our fast frenzy. In spite of all that, we can't save any time to do nothing.
In spite of grandmother's complaints, time must have passed slower for her generation. Daily activities took longer - cooking, corresponding, traveling. There must have been time to daydream.
If you want to see where time went, you can look at how far you've progressed in your career, how much your children have grown - how much the roots of your hair show. You can also look at credit card bills, car loans and mortgage payments. At least these leave paper trails.
Time goes faster when you're having fun and the trip back from a vacation goes faster than the trip to it.
You can try to slow time down, but I've found only two ways. One is having a root canal and the other is a visit from my mother-in-law. Both are too painful.
Holding a jar of thyme in my hand worked - but only when I was cooking.
We spend one-third of our lives in bed - but not necessarily sleeping. My husband lies in bed worrying about not sleeping. Because most heart attacks occur in bed during the early morning hours, get up. You want to slow time - not stop it.
Eventually we have to bite the bullet - but not too hard - and stop wasting time worrying about how fast it goes. Time made me who I am today; and if I avoid mirrors, I like who I am. Nevertheless, I can't figure out how to stop and smell the roses I never had time to plant.
KNIGHT PIERCE HIRST takes humorous looks at life.
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