Second Helpings

A Matter of Time

I’ve always found time to be the most difficult and complicated topic to comprehend. Everyone has their own concept of it and attitude towards it. There are hundreds of clichés, poems and songs on the subject of time and it must be one of the most well-used words in the English language.

I mean, according to research, you can save time, make time, waste time, borrow time, give time, take time, find time, buy time and kill time to quote just a few. We can look back in time or forward, take time out to play or for something new, devote time to people and interests or if we’ve had enough, we can say it’s time to call it a day.

It’s certainly true time drags when you’re participating in something you don’t enjoy and flies when you’re having fun. My weekends in La La Land seem eternal; my last weekend with Julia was gone in a flash. My time spent with my sister starting tomorrow until Saturday will also be over in the blink of an eye, but the supermarket and gym on Monday will be never-ending. It doesn’t seem fair does it?

Time zones are another thing I can never get my head around. It’s difficult to imagine people eating breakfast on one continent when I’m about to prepare an evening meal. And if it’s Sunday in Australia and only Saturday night here, why can’t some kind Aussie mate send me the winning lottery numbers from the night before?

People have strange habits concerning time. My friend Gillian keeps a calendar in her kitchen and crosses off each day of the month as it ends. I’m too polite to ask why. She also has about six grandfather clocks which chime every quarter of an hour and not simultaneously at that. It would drive me nuts if I hadn’t entered that state already.

My hubby looks at his watch about every five minutes. He seems to be obsessed about the time. If I get up in the night to go to the loo or move away from the brass bands in our bed he’ll always ask me what time it was when I departed. I have no bloody idea; the last thing I’m thinking about in the middle of the night is what time it is.

I’m with Mrs. Whatsit on this one, in that at some stage I’d like to live without a watch or a clock. I realise it’s impractical for some things, but birds and animals get by without knowing where the big and little hands are on the clock and just go with their natural instincts, so would it be a disaster if we tried to?

Anyway, I’m rambling and it’s time I got off my backside and dried my hair. Amazing how quickly time passes when blogging. Soon be time to start the dinner too. My sister will be phoning at some time tonight about tomorrow’s arrangements. I just hope I’ll have time to return to the computer later.

Funny old thing this time business, but I think I agree with the wise words spoken by whoever it was who said we should make time count as opposed to counting time. I’d research it if I had the time.

To everything, turn, turn, turn
There is a season, turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven..