Rushing Time

I spent the last half-hour lying in bed. I went there wondering if a writing idea would come to me in horizontal mode. And one did.

A few minutes ago, I approached my dear laptop with the thought “It’s 6:45. I bet I can finish this post by 7:30.” And I realized this was an odd way to look at life. The words will come out of my fingers as they choose, in the rhythm they want. The ideas, partially formed in the snoozing room, will emerge now in their own sweet time. Why quibble with nature?

I went grocery shopping this afternoon, a basic task for someone who doesn’t know how to cook. After making my choices, I participated in a basic human behaviour: lining up. I started near the cashiers and kept walking away from them, around the perimeter of the store, in search of the end of the line. Fifty or sixty people later, I found it.

That far away from the cash, there were no social distancing signs on the floor to reinforce our healthy six feet distance. What I saw in me and many others was a leaning forward toward the customer in front. I’d “wake up” and see that I was only three feet behind. It’s like being hypnotized: move forward, squish together … and you’ll get to your destination quicker.

Exhibit number two is the freeway. I usually hang out in the right lane, and let the speedsters blast by in the other ones. Recently, though, I see that I’m being tailgated in the slow lane as I do the speed limit.

Once I’m in the city, there’s the world of red lights. So many drivers creep up to the car ahead. It’s a compressing Slinky toy. I don’t creep, and often I sense the displeasure of the driver behind for my flaunting of social norms.

Exhibit number three is my body. Overall I really like it but sometimes I get impatient. I visited my doctor a few weeks ago. There was a growth on my right forearm – pretty red and raised up from the surface of the surrounding skin. Doc said we should watch that one: possibly skin cancer. When I come back for a flu shot in mid-October, if the bump is still big, she’ll do a biopsy. So … you see in front of you a frequent inspector of my right forearm. Happily, the blemish is getting smaller, less intense, and returning to the level of the skin. But my wee brain wants the return to normalcy to go faster. “It has to disappear by October 15!”

That’s enough exhibits. There’s a natural unfolding of grocery lines, highway travel and bodily healing. I need to respect it.

P.S. It’s 7:26. Just saying.

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