I still can’t decide if the weekend flew by with undue haste… or if it puttered away and dragged on for miles and miles.

On the one hand, it was a weekend.

On the other hand, a damaged knee, a full day plugged to a paperback novel, and another sunny afternoon sitting on the 49th parallel seemed to drag the hours into an extra.longness that one doesn’t always get with a weekend. It was nice, but I feel as though I’ve been away from work for a week — not just two days.

And you’re complaining??

Not exactly, but I really hate it when time gets out of joint like that — my perceptions distorting by that whole warping of reality thing — and I can’t get a firm grasp on how long has passed between logical points and reflections. For example, Karin and I sat in the park on Saturday afternoon, a couple of blankets spread across the grass, a can of Pringles, and some healthy reading material. I know it was shortly after noon when we stepped out of our building, crossed the road, and peeled off our shoes — and I know it was around two o’clock when we lazed our way back into the confines of our humble abode — but the space in between could have been two hours — it could have bee twenty minutes — it could have been an entire day. It twists like that.