This week is turning out to be one of the sort where I feel as though time is holding its breath; like it is watching a particularly delicate maneuver being performed and doesn't want to risk disturbing the players involved.
Which is a poetic way of saying, "is it over yet?!" (How about now? Now? What do you mean, 'it's only Wednesday,' it has GOT to be at LEAST friday by now...)
When I'm not being irritated by it, these sorts of weeks fascinate me by driving home how very odd a species we are.
Night / not-night wasn't good enough for US, oh no! We had to put rules on time, break it up into standardized blocks so we could utterly disregard what sun, moon, stars, weather or our own bodies told us and be able to say we should be here or there, doing this or that, because! 9:00, dude!
I love us so much for that kind of thing, you know? Our breathtaking arrogance charms me, little insignificant specks of carbon saying, "Now see here, Natural Order, we have decided this thing you do with the days-get-shorter-then-longer doesn't work for us, so, here's how it's gonna be..."
We are magnificent in our flippancy, are we not?
None of which changes the fact that, on this Thursday, I feel as though it should be Saturday at least. The restless nature of Spring is seeping into me, pricking my mind with the notion that I have so very much more to do today, while my body insists that the day has already dragged on far longer than it should have already and that the last thing needed would be anything else.
Which I suppose is just another variation of the human tendency to reject Nature's reality to substitute our own; I'm not quite ready to accept that the relatively (physically) lazy days of winter are nearly over, and soon my 'free' time will begin disappearing into endless weeding and mulching and planting and harvesting and processing and otherwise not having much free time at all.
I know I will enjoy it once it's underway...but for now, when I'm still enjoying being "forced" to stay indoors by wind or rain or cold, I must admit that every time I look outside and think I really should think about fixing the beds or checking the drip lines...I find myself feeling strangely more tired than I was when the thought first occurred to me...
We all have weeks like that. I spent yesterday (Thursday) thinking it was still Tuesday! Talk about a being-stuck-on-a-treadmill sort of day.
- Pam (Just popped by to tell you I'm cooking your gingered beef recipe tonight)
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