I sure don’t know where the past two weeks went to, but wherever they went, I hope they found a good home and will enjoy living with their new owners.
I know why they went by so fast. It’s because I was off from work. Any days in which I don’t have to go to work fly by faster than the speed of light. (And, yes, I know that, according to generally accepted theories, faster-than- light travel is impossible, but the people coming up with those cockamamie theories obviously have never studied how fast weekends go by when one doesn’t have to work.)
This has put me in a philosophic mood. (So please put on your safety goggles and splash-proof aprons.)
Whenever I speak wistfully and dreamily about that day far into the future when I will get to retire, when I pine longingly for when my time will be my own, certain people in my life tell me that I will be miserable if I retire. They use the logic that, since I have no real hobbies or interests, that I will be bored out of my mind after a week.
I have always pooh-poohed that theory based on the fact that I don’t need any hobbies or activities to enjoy myself. I have no interest in woodworking or collecting anything or building anything. I love any time when I can get away from the real world and live in the world I have always wanted to live in. I am perfectly happy sitting here in my comfy chair, typing away, sipping coffee, and listening to music. I love slipping away into my fantasy world where I am neighbors with Alistair and Alexis.
But after watching the past two weeks flit by in the blink of an eye, I am now feeling a bit uneasy about retirement.
If time will speed up exponentially when I no longer have to work and I can finally enjoy my time the way I want to, then the duration of my life between the day I retire and the final fall of the curtain will last approximately 20 seconds.
I have finally discovered that it is my job that is slowing down time enough for me to even be able to perceive the world around me.
So, based on that, I can never retire.
Our jobs are the gritty, non-skid sandpaper upon which our derrieres slide down on the super fun-slide to oblivion.
It makes the ride slow enough for us to perceive it.
It saves us from the curse of a joyful immortality that would only last about 20 seconds.