Endlessly Shorter and Shorter

One of the things I miss the most from childhood is a summer so long you get bored and want to go back to school.

I realize this is more of a North American thing, but I still remember being able to visit my grandparents, go camping, play games, watch summer reruns and replacements on TV, complain about going to bed while the sun was still out, get cabin fever and complain about having nothing to do, and still have a full month of vacation left.

Now, even though I sort of, kind of, get summer off, those weeks go quickly. I feel especially sorry for those who only take two weeks for vacation.

Part of it is that sense that time speeds up. When I was 10, three months was 2.5% of my life. Now it’s .005% I remember reading that part of the reason it would suck to live a million years is that each year would seem like only a few hours or so (if you’re exactly my age anyway) and that would be a huge burden on you as you try to find a place for all your presents. (I may be misunderstanding how that works a bit). A 50 year marriage would feel like it lasted only 21 hours or so.

The other part is that there’s no longer that sense that you have nothing to do. I can waste time with the best of them. Slothful teens are amateurs compared to what I’m capable of. I can get the house messy enough that even extreme hoarders go “Dud, that’s a bit messy.” But in the end the slothful teens will enjoy it more because they don’t yet realize there are other things they need to do (or more specifically, they are not chemically/mentally able to care). Your parents got up so early because they had to even if they had nothing to do. You end up filling your days even if it’s only to seem productive so that you set a good example.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s 11:20 p.m. and I have to wash dishes.

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