20131113.0638

Where has the time gone?
It nears the middle of the month,
But I had thought it just started.

A holiday has passed,
Another draws near,
And I am not ready for it
Despite my love
Of feasting
Of napping
Of time with family and friends.

People and places around me
Look ahead
To another holiday entirely
And it pisses me off
Both because it skips a good day
On purpose
And because I am not ready for the later holiday, either.

There is still work to do.
There is less time to do it than I should like.

The cliché holds:
Tempus fugit.
Time flies.
It is supposed to happen while a person is having fun.
It flies for me,
But I am not sure that I am having fun,
Not with this.

But maybe I ought to
Take the cliché,
The Latinism,
Mess with it,
And come up with something like
Tempus, fuck it.

It is, admittedly, a stretch.