My hourglass is in overdrive

I’m troubled by the ever-more rapid passage of time. I first noticed this phenomenon decades ago when I realized that the Christmas holiday season, which only seemed to occur every 2-1/2 years or so when I was a child, now seemed to be happening approximately every three months, making it almost unnecessary to undecorate only to redecorate such a short time later.

Lately I have seen further evidence that some force has increased the flow rate of sand through my hourglass. My seven-day pill box, which I use to remind my occasionally forgetful self to take the various medicines demanded by the frailties of my body, as well as the vitamins and minerals designed to keep those frailties at a minimum, has fourteen spaces. Those spaces allow morning and evening allotments to supplement my diet as directed. I faithfully refill it every Saturday evening, right after devouring the last of the previous week’s contributions to my health.

Years ago, seven days — let’s call it a week for simplicity’s sake — used to include forty hours of work, various sports events with my boys, a couple of party nights out, highly anticipated weekly installments of favorite television shows, and a weekend that arrived far too slowly. Back then, a week was a very long time. Now, it seems I am filling that empty pill box nearly every other night.

My mostly retired self appears to be increasingly at the whim of an hourglass gone berserk. If I were a Democrat, or some crazy person (I know that is redundant) I would blame Donald Trump for this ruptured time passage abomination. But I believe I am in full possession of all my marbles. I religiously count them every evening, and they’re all there. More and more, I feel like a snowball rolling downhill, steadily encompassing all manner of debris in my path, and the bottom of the hill is rushing at me at a horrifying rate.

It has been suggested that considering the state of today’s world, rapid passage of time is a good thing, but I’m not convinced. I would like a better explanation for these rapidly escalating intervals, but I need it soon. The bottom of the hill is getting close, and I’m running out of pills.

Bill Hansmann is a dentist and dental educator with over fifty years in the profession. He continues to teach and write political blogs and semi-mediocre novels while living with his wife and cats in Georgia.

Image: Pixabay / Pixabay License