Susan wonders: Where did the time go?

It's five pm Thursday and I just realized I've got a blog due tonight. Much swearing ensues, because I don't have a clue what to write about. Not to mention that I'm slogging through my current work in progress so sloooowly a snail just blew my hair back with its tailwind, or that I'm a tad on the anal side so I know I'll spend way too much time correcting what I do write. . .and all I really want to do is grab a book and flop on the couch for a few hours to lose myself in someone else's story.
Where does the time go? I'm not talking about the fact that I'm a couple weeks shy of my next birthday, which will put me that much closer to 60 than it does to 50. Age has never really worried me. But when I was a sweet young thing with a job and a kid and a husband and a house to clean and a yard that made me wonder what we'd been thinking to buy a corner lot, I always assumed that the older I got the more time I would have to relax.
'Scuse me while I wipe the tea I was sipping from the screen. Mustn't spew. Mustn't spew. Mustn't...
Um, where was I? Oh. Yeah.
Time really does fly. Every day seems to go faster than the day before and there are way more distraction
s than there used to be. (Can you say Internet?) I seem to have less and less time to accomplish all the things that I'd like to. And what happened to down time, to those entire days I used to wile away reading? Now I'm lucky to get in a chapter here and a chapter there. I actually like going to the gym because it means I can read for a solid hour while I work out on the ellipical machine. Whoever would have imagined that?And when did twenty-four hours become insufficient for one day?
Please don't tell me I'm the only one dealing with this phenomenon. There must be stuff eating up your time. Right?
Am I right?


















