Time Management
The pounding of the surf in my ears should subside any moment, now that I�ve come to rest in my computer chair at work. Oh, that�s not the sea in my ears? That�s the rushing of my blood, the beating of my heart, the wheezing of my lungs and the creaking of my bones as I rise at 4:40 a.m. and rush around like a lunatic to ensure that I actually do stuff before I go to work.

Tell me, does the clock run faster in the early portion of the morning than it does as the day ages? Or do I love the wee hours so much that my attempts to squeeze every last ounce of enjoyment out of them speeds time along at a tremendous rate? Even with the winter wind whipping viciously around the corner of the house and the dog looking pitifully at me from the back patio, blanketed in snowflakes which sort of make her look like a Mini Wheat, I love the morning. In the winter, I tend to light the candles in the living room and enjoy the glow. Doing Tai Chi in front of them instead of the morning gloom-and-doom news is far more centering, believe me.

But then, as is my wont, time wrenches itself from my grasp and gets away. I�m wandering around the house with a load of warm laundry to fold one moment, the next I�m racing to the closet in bra and undies to choose a sweater, toothbrush in perilous range of the gag reflex part of my throat, the now excited dog prancing around my feet. Did I turn off the oven? Do I have parking change? Where�s my yogurt? Do I even have enough gas to get down the laneway?

Argh.

I�m glad I stop to smell the roses, but I have to start getting out of the way of the gardener and his riding lawnmower.

Posted at 8:50 a.m.