Who Knows Where?

I wanted to write today, and I had a ton of time, at least ostensibly, to do so. But I didn't. I spoke to my mom for a bit, and then my sister, took James' car to the shop only to have them tell me to come back on Monday, grabbed some food, picked up my laundry from the cleaners, showered, did some last minute Burning Man shopping, listened to music, and probably jerked off. Yep, I did. Where does the time go? Ask Nina Simone. Most of it is spent waiting, walking, driving, moving irreversibly from point A to point B while trying to tie up the loose ends before the day is done. Then, before you know it, you're 55 years old and you ask yourself again where all the time has gone.

I don't know where the time goes.

One day, I will.