The Ruminator

Come on up and grab yourself a beer.

Wednesday, June 11, 2003

It's all relative

My experience of the passage of time seems to be slightly problematic at the moment.

To quote the memorable excuse of a friend of mine, I appear to have passed through a freak wormhole.

This morning after breakfast I looked at the clock and it was 8.17am. I brushed my teeth, put on my shoes, and looked at the clock again. It said 8.40am.

I suppose that twenty minutes of my life was not too much to miss, but on the other hand I am unlikely to get it back in a hurry. And I like the part of the morning that comes after you’re properly awake and before you have to run out the door. It is an important time for preparing yourself to face the day ahead. Maybe I’ll just keep missing so many twenty minute segments that it will end up adding up to something significant. Or maybe the universe is just compensating for the fact that this working week seems to be dragging like treacle.

Unfortunately, my boss is not scientifically minded or inclined to watch too many special-effects laden movies, so she is unlikely to be impressed by my pleading disturbances in the space-time continuum as an excuse for being late.

On the other hand she has admitted to enjoying some mind-altering substances in her younger and wilder days, so maybe I can convince her that she only THINKS I was late.