I can’t wait for the weekend. I can’t wait for this day to be over. I wish it was next week. These are things we all think and say from time to time. Personally, when I’m stuck on the phone with a customer who is clueless about what he wants, angry about how much it’s going to cost and unable to speak with out sounding like he’s got a mouthful of shit I would gladly give up 2 or 3 days just to be done with him. Later, however, I always feel guilty and slightly paranoid about wishing away time.
There was a point in my life when I wasn’t really bothered by impending death around every corner but now I’m fully content with living forever. With my renewed interest in life I have discovered that the rate at which time seems to be passing is increasing at an alarming rate. I feel as though I’m in a car with no brakes heading downhill on a winding road. I just know that up ahead there is a curve that is just a little too sharp and I will be going a little too fast and with the screams of the tires, the twisting metal of the crashed through guardrail and my own horrified voice all joining together in one last a cappella exclamation of dismay, I will go sailing off into a ravine.
So, I suppose I will deal with the confused and confrontational occasionally and enjoy the time I have here whilst I still have control of the wheel.
