Time

When I quit working, I really expected that time would no longer be an issue. I thought I would have my whole day to work on my projects and I could just crank out project after project.

Time is an odd enity. It's a tangent measurement. 1 minutes is always 1 minute. There's no variable. However, our sense of time in not tangent. If fluxuates with our own sense of how fast it's going. Waiting at a stop light, time seems to slow down, yet when on a deadline, time moves way too fast. As I've gotten older, my general sense of time has changed. Days go by much faster, as do the weeks, months and years.

I'm not good at estimating time or how long something is going to take (which is ironinc, as I used to work as a production coordinator who's job was to decide how long a book would take to produce).

So I've finished up the dog sweater (except for buttons) and I looked at the Mason County web site to get the address to which I was going to mail it off... and it's gone. It looks like they no longer are looking for dog sweaters. There's no more pleas for them or an address on which to mail them off. So the sweater that I expected to take 3 days, but in fact took a week, took me much longer than I expected and now I'm too late. The dog sweater will go somewhere*, but I feel bad that I didn't get it done in time.


*It will not be here. I tried it on Jake and he just stood there shaking, scared to death that he had a sweater on. He obviously wasn't happy about it, and that's fine with me. I also now know that I won't be making one for him. He loves his afghans, but he's just not a sweater kind of guy.