If you have somewhere to be that’s exciting, something that you’re actually looking forward to, those minutes will drag by like each second is weighed down by additional bonus seconds, the nanoseconds full of lead and cement. You can see each grain of sand slipping through the hour glass in cartoonish slow motion like Neo fighting crime in the Matrix.
So why, oh why does the last thirty minutes before work seem feel like Captain Kirk just threw your whole house into warp drive and minutes zoom past in the blink of an eye? How can they be the shortest thirty minutes of every single day? Call Doctor Who. I’m calling bullshit.
When did it ever take me 15 minutes to brush my teeth? Where the hell are my shoes? Keys? No seriously, where the f**k are my keys?! Crap, I need ____ today. Where did I put it? Only 5 minutes left? Crap. Crap crap crappity crap crap. Is that a stain on my pants? What in the hell? Eff it. Seriously, WHERE ARE MY GODDAMN KEYS? Did I eat anything? Maybe I should grab a snack.
And then I’m late. Why didn’t I start getting ready earlier? I’ll never learn. I’m a moron.
I'm just living minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day.