I'm a bit over halfway through my vacation and I'm finding that it's going way too fast. Why is that?
What is the strange thing in our universe that decided fun things like vacations and weekends should go by fast, while things like being tortured or being forced to watch a Paris Hilton movie should make a second feel like a minute and a minute like an hour?
Since I can't write on SILENCING SAPPHIRE and since I've decided that it's okay not to be able to write on it because of one's own terrifying psychological ghosts, I've now put the vacation into full gear and started trying to squeeze every bit of juice out of this orange. Instead of the whole: A lot of time with little to do, it is now: A little time with A lot to do. Meaning: a leisurely activity like feeding the ducks becomes narrowed down to its most essential part without allowing any chitchatting, smiling, stopping to pickup the mitten one of your family members lost, or anything this else that could be considered time consuming. Sounds fun right? Well it's not.
Had my old friends over for dinner yesterday--by old I mean young friends whom I've known since before I had my second set of front teeth-- and I'm pretty sure they got a sense of my new found time and organization Hitler-ism when I ushered them between the kitchen and the living room in the most time efficient manner, and told them dessert will in exactly 15 minutes.
I now have exactly 8 minutes to finish this post, get a tweet out, check my email for anything Sapphire related, and pack my overnight bag so that I can go force my family to spend time with me while doing errands. They've looked a bit reluctant to spend time with me lately, but I'm sure it's just my imagination.