Counting out time.

Time flies when you're having fun. When you're not, it doesn't. As humans get older, a day seems like an hour, and hour a minute and a minute an eye-blink. But what if you're older and not having any fun? Right on time, I suppose. Maybe this is the real reason that so many old people stay cranky. They're just slowing things down, holding off the approach of the big D.

I must be getting older. I'm always having the feeling during the workweek that I'm not sure if it's already Wednesday or only Wednesday. I'd prefer to think that this is due to an intrinsic property of Wednesday, but I'm guessing that the universe doesn't give that much of a crap about our 'Wednesday' designation. Alternatively, I could anthropomorphize a bit and call it Wednesday's evil plan to fuck with us. After all, it makes sense for a grown up Wednesday's Child. But more likely, I'm just cranky, too. Fortunately, it's only Tuesday, and though I have no idea what that does to the calculations, I do know that somewhere in the world... it's half-price margarita night.