As my college days hit the back stretch, I can vividly recall how time seemed to move at a ridiculously fluid pace – as if the local environment helped speed the clock along from mid-morning (because who ever got up early at school if they could help it), to noon (“All My Children” – check), to afternoon (where time really flew) and finally evening for study and paper writing.
The reason I bring this up is that my recent days seem to be moving as quickly – maybe not as blindingly as in school – but my 24-hour segments truly feel like seams on a racetrack. Perhaps because the winter days are so much shorter? I can’t say exactly – but it feels disconcerting all the same.
Maybe a wormhole has formed under my house.
Dammit, there’s so much I don’t know about astrophysics.
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