From T.S. Eliot’s The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Time is something that J. Alfred and I seem to experience differently. He seems to want to linger over decisions, while I prefer to make them before the opportunity vanishes. Is he indecisive, or am I impetuous? But, we’re both aware of it’s odd duality – finite, yet infinitely elastic. There are 3,600 seconds in every hour, 24 hours in each day, and 365.25 days (more, or less) in each year. Yet, a minute spent doing something we enjoy vanishes before it’s noticed while a second in the dentist’s chair just won’t go away, no matter how gentle the dentist. It’s a lifetime between Thanksgivings (my favorite holiday), but birthdays rack up like tenths of a mile on a car’s odometer at 70 mph. I’m sure that we can all supply our own pet examples.

Time is also something I’ve been a bit short of since Christmas (hence the lack of posts and lurking, rather than commenting). But, I hope to have a bit more of that commodity for a while.  I don’t that I’ll post anymore frequently, I try not to post unless I’ve got something I think people  might want to read, but did want to say I missed the place and I’m glad to be back.