apropos of nothing
December 22, 2005
On the Upswing
We've been whining to each other for weeks now about how there is no time. Where does it all go, the time?
When Pea dropped me off the other night we nattered about it being a good day, a busy day, full of fun and shopping, and mimosas and ceasars, and beer.
I checked the time. 8:00pm. Pitch freaking black and cold as Martha's heart.
"If this were August, it would still be light and 24 degrees and we would have at least 3 more hours of drinking and talking."
"Winter is the problem. We are losing 3 perfectly good hours of useable time every damn day."
Winter is the problem.
So, solstice.
About fucking time.
Posted by sasha
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