Time is a smart aleck

    For most of us, time flows in a fairly predictable fashion. When you're very young, time flows verrrry slooowly, such that next Christmas, for instance, seems several centuries away. As you grow older, time passes more quickly, and the rate of change seems pretty steady as well. I'm told that when you're old, time goes so fast a year seems to take about as long as a week did when you were young.
    At the age of nearly fifty, I haven't quite experienced this yet. But I had gotten used to time more or less racing by. Since last December, though, I've been having quite the slowdown. Every day is like a week, but not in any onerous way. I have had the strong sense that something massive, something spectacular is about to occur, but yet, it keeps declining to do so. It's enough to make a fellow start to doubt his fabulous psychic powers.
    I'm starting to get fed up with it. I'm about ready for the pages to fly off the calendar again, like in the old movies. I'd like to go for a hike without the breeze in the leaves of the trees whispering words of omen and portent. I'm most emphatically too old for this stuff. So Fates? Get on with it, will you?