Lately time has been playing tricks on me.
First it’s slow and lazy. The kids are play together without fighting. I’ve finished the chores, wondering what to do next. In these moments, when I’m not a tornado, I get bored. Am I allowed to sneak away from it all to read blogs?
Then all of a sudden, time slips into fast forward. We have to be somewhere. The boys mess around, lose shoes and toys, lay down, boycott, sit-in, run around like tornadoes. I can’t find my keys, which is weird because they’re attached to me. I forgot this. Or that. And ohmygod, I need this. And where the hell are my sunglasses? (Which is weird too because they’re always in the car) While we’re running around, time picks up double speed. Then we’re late. I hate being late.
I haven’t noticed this phenomenon anywhere else but my house. And it’s driving me insane. The mornings are slow. Naptime speeds by. Afternoons trickle by. That half an hour before dinner is gone in a blink of an eye. Then that slow march towards bedtime. Then time speeds by while I’m doing chores and trying to get to the things *I* want to do. Usually the day ends abruptly like a curtain fall or a switch of the lights.
Maybe it’s this house.