I'll happily confess to not minding the calendar as much as I might out, but still, this happens to me every year: a new year rolls around, and plans are made, and expectations set, and then a bunch of stuff happens, and I look up and bingo it's Pearl Harbor Day and I'm wondering "What the hell happened to April? Did we have April this year? WHO THE HELL CANCELLED APRIL AND WHY WASN'T I NOTIFIED!?!".
Criminy. 2008 is damned near in the rearview and I'm still trying to get used to not writing "2007" in the date area of what checks I still write.
It's a funny thing, the way life feels these days. Chalk it up to some sort of Zeno's Paradox of Middle Age, but it feels as if every day -- every week, every month, every year -- is sliding by with ever-increasing rapidity, while at the same time progress seems to be slowing down. Everything takes longer to happen, except disasters and fuck-ups, of course, which always play out at 45rpm in a 33rpm world (that's an old-school shout-out to all you wrinkled bitter farts who remember those sepia-toned times when music was not downloaded and pterodactyls still ruled the skies).
Before I even finish this post, we'll be well into 2009 and wrestling with taxes ("We had income last year? For real? When!?!") and dealing with Spring Break plans and then baseball season and then end of school craziness and then of course summertime is always a sea of craziness, what with kids home for months and plans and camps and swimming and grassfires and satellites raining down and god only knows what other sweet hell gets served up this time around and then my god school is starting and we have to get ready for that and then football and dance and scouts and campouts and AFF09 and Halloween my god we need to find pumpkins and have them carved within the next 85 minutes and this turkey seems drier than last year's and didn't we get your cousin a wine rack LAST year for Christmas and holy crap it's 2010? Really?
What happened to 2009?
I need a nap, except I fear the Van WInkle Effect and waking to find flying cars and domed cities and 14,000 unread emails waiting for my attention.
I need a nap. And a beer. And a donut. And a hug. And a lottery win.