Tipping my hat to the recent time change that still has us all confused beyond belief, I want to talk about time.

Time hasn’t been my friend lately, and I’m not speaking to it right now.

I wonder. Do we ever really have enough time? That’s like saying “enough sleep,” or “enough dessert,” or “enough underwear.”

I get annoyed because it seems that I can never catch up. As you know, someone keeps trashing my room, so if I ever get everything else done, there’s still my bedroom to tidy up and vacuum.

It has occurred to me that I can create more hours in a day by waking up early, but for the sake of argument, let us snort obnoxiously at this thought and ignore that absurd possibility.

I read a book called “Star Girl” by Jerry Spinelli when I was younger, and it talked about time.

If I remember correctly there was a point in the story where they smash every clock in their house.

I was always mesmerized at the freedom of that. And it sounded fun.

Time doesn’t exist. It’s just a measurement of the blocks of hours of daylight and nighttime. It’s how humans can properly organize what time they’re meeting for coffee, and how you’re late for work, and when the town should congregate for a meeting.

Time was meant for our convenience. Yet, way more often (I’m talking 95%) than not, we are the slaves of time.

I’m not a fan of this. I don’t like that something inanimate and even invisible is telling me what to do, and getting me in trouble, and telling people to start without me. How rude!

I try my best to ignore clocks on a day-to-day basis.

Time stresses me out. I write too slow or get ready too slow, and then I go to work and I clean too fast and I prep too fast and I’m forced to stand around, painfully bored until a costumer shows up.

I’m never bored, until I go to work, which is the one place where I want time to go by quickly. But of course it doesn’t. Time is a jerk.

I do like to entertain the thought of smashing every clock in my house. I think of it quite a bit. But then I remember I live in the real world, and even if all my clocks are smashed, everyone else with a sane mind and working wrist watches will still know that I’m late for church.

This is one of those conversations I imagine “intellectual” people having over coffee. (I say “intellectual” because I think it’s funny that two people can argue about something profound and pointless and be called intellectuals.)

So let us be intellectuals and sip our coffee together.

Time; friend or foe. Or is it me, simply not embracing the friendship of Time. Or do we all secretly hate Time? What are you thoughts on the topic, friend?

Ha, I just thought of a new meaning to the phrase “Waste Time.” I’m guessing I’m not the only one who had a vendetta against it.

Time apparently survived the shooting.