Time

There is simply not enough time.  Where exactly does time go? 

Some weeks I can see that my leg hair has reached neanderthal proportions and that there is simply no time to wrench myself into the twenty first century.  Above the temples, silver sprouting of the most obnoxious kind can see seen after some weeks of neglect.  Left long enough they will turn into what is, euphemistically, know as mallen streaks but which are just, frankly, grey.  A perfect arch of my eyebrow can become as blurred as a bow after the arrow's flight.  I have time to rectify none of it.

You may ask how I could let things get to this pass.  Just blame Time, or the absence of it.  There are far too many pressing things to do.  Work, more work, shopping, cooking, cleaning, walking the dog...I could go on.  I don't even have the added responsibility of children, thank the Lord.  Children would have no place within the frenetic pace of my world.  I am too busy working hard to impress people that only care for themselves.  After all their opinion of me matters - doesn't it?



Time Up.
 Inspiration:  It's Friday and I'm just reflecting on the nature of work.