The travelogue is drafted, but I'm being nice and letting my mother read it before I link it up for the world at large. That should happen in the next week.
I had two time-related realizations within the past, say, 3 minutes:
1) I dated last week's entry incorrectly. It was really the 22nd.
2) I forgot to turn the clock in the car back. This will be a terrible source of confusion to me on Tuesday morning, when I actually have to drive somewhere I should get to at a specific time.
I'm not about to fix the first of those, since it's entirely unimportant. As for the latter, I probably won't take care of it until Tuesday because it's sort of silly to go out to the car just to set the clock.
It does, however, bring me to the subjec tof my relationship with time. I have a reasonably good sense of time, meaning that I can often wake up and know what time it is surprisingly accurately before I look at the clock. That falls apart if I get absorbed in doing something, though, and hours can go by without my noticing how long I've been at it. It also falls apart on airplanes. I suppose there are some sort of external cues I normally rely on which are lacking in that environment.
The best thing about how I deal with time is that I adjust between time zones remarkably quickly. The worst thing is my continual feeling of not having enough time to do everything I want to. Somewhere there's a lesson about the need to slow down.
Copyright 2006 Miriam H. Nadel