Time can go to hell. Or more specifically, the lack of time that seems to exist around me can go to hell.
Right to HELL.
I don’t ask much of this world. As little misery at work as possible, some time with friends and family, some relaxation, and the opportunity to pursue the projects I want to pursue, whether professional endeavors (“Stuff Every Husband Should Know“) or hobbies (recording music or doing comic anthologies).
But there isn’t time to squeeze it all in. This stacks up with that is piled onto that other thing, and pretty soon you’re tearing your hair out, picking priorities, dropping things that aren’t all that important to you, and just hoping to escape with a few shreds of sanity — especially during the summer, when BBQs, parties, concerts, and other social gatherings pick up steam. They’re always going to take priority over anything other than paid work. It’s frustrating to lose productivity, yes, but on the other hand screw not having a life.
I hereby mandate that all days shall have 32 hours.
Makes me want to eat Guinea pigs.