"Time!", he screeched

frantically, "Time! Time! Time! It's time!"

I don't know what happened to my timer this week. I realized yesterday that it was the 13th but I "felt like" it was the 12th and I can't get back on track. I know today is only Tuesday, but it seems like it's near the end of the week.

I think that's why I seem to be obsessed with time. It's such a fleeting, ephemeral thing that's hard to hold in my mind or hands.

I can't see it, eat it, drink it, touch it, control it. Sure I can see time on a clock, but how do I know the time there is right? I can't tell if it's morning or evening or Tuesday or Saturday by looking at a clock. Not even a digital clock. At least not the digital clocks in my life.

They say what they want and none of them says the same thing. The clock in the bedroom is almost, but not quite, an hour off. So I know approximately that it's almost some time or other and if there's light coming through the blinds it's probably daylight, but sometimes when it's gloomy weather I have to guess.

The sad thing is that I mostly tell time by the television and when they screw with regular programming I don't have a clue.

Ah, that's the thing. She doesn't have a clue.