This week all I can think of on Manic Monday is the clock, slowly dragging each moment out longer and longer until it seems that each and every second can be felt. What I want is for that imaginary clock to break so that I won't hear the infernal ticking that makes me irrational enough to wish an imaginary clock would fall and break into bits on the floor.
I want time to fly by, I want the seconds to turn quickly to minutes, then to days and weeks. I want the time to magically pass when my children and I sleep fitfully each night, and then we could wake to find that we have missed the dreadful heat and pollen-induced misery of allergies in the summer ... we could wake to find that fall is approaching and it is getting ever closer to the time when we spend a few days in a happy rush preparing for Private Ryan's return to our home, even if we know that it will be a short one.
This Manic Monday, I want someone to package the first of August in a lovely box with a pretty ribbon and an astonishingly beautiful bow that sits proudly on top. I want to dig into that bow and unravel its beauty to get to the knot which holds the ribbon tight. I want to open that box and pull out August 1st, marvel at what it means, and then lovingly set it aside so that I can begin to prepare.
