Time is so relative. Perception is all. My half hour swim is just right; so is my half-hour nap (I always wake about a minute before time buzzes); the 30 seconds I stand on one foot and then the other, total 60 seconds, with my other leg bent and my heel pressing my bottom, are very long and excruciating; the 3 to 7 minutes I wait for the subway train, depending on the time of day, are bearable because I have learned to be patient. But the shortest time between daily events is the 24 hours (or less) between blogs. My, how time flies!

My tiny audience can be forgiven if they don't read me every day, I mean, what for? So the time between blogs is probably just right for them, casual consumers that they are. For me, however, blogs have become inexorable. I can think of an analogy: when I took possession of our second car, it was less than a week before it became a plough. Suddenly I was the one with the time and the means to pick up the dry-cleaning and the booze, renew the car license(s) and take everyone everywhere. What seemed to be a luxury to enjoy turned into never-ending tasks to perform. So with the blog.

It's in my sub-conscious all day. I scrutinize random thoughts before I slough them off, pausing to consider whether they are blog-worthy. It's like menu-planning, taking into account what leftovers I have to use up and making a mental list of what I have to add to make them palatable. Know what? More lists.

Oy.