Days Off

It is Friday and I am not at work. I'm listening to an old cd of Thanksgiving music (a genre that has not really taken off the way I think it should,) sitting in my pajamas, and seriously considering leaving the house to get in a little holiday shopping while I have some free time.

It seems that this Thanksgiving strongly encouraged the "I can't believe how fast time is flying" conversation. And, of course, I, too, can't believe how fast time is flying. As we traded stories at the dinner table last night, I found myself referring to events that are impossibly distant from the present. Can it be almost three years since I moved to New York? Is it really true that I saw The Lion King nine years ago? And did I first pick up the trumpet thirteen years ago?

As each week flies by, I am incredibly aware of the speed of life. In so many ways, I just want to slow it down a little bit. A part of me thinks a good strategy is to just relax indoors on this rare weekday off, but the rest of me thinks I better get up and get out before this day, too, is a distant memory.