Call, or don't call.

Is it just me, or do weeks fly by frighteningly fast? I have noticed recently that the weeks don't feel so stretched out, and the five days from weekend to weekend no longer feel like the infinite desert they once did. But I haven't yet decided if this is a good thing or not.

On the one hand, it's great to not hate 4 or 5/7ths of my life. The thing about dreading the work week is that you waste a lot of time. Perhaps this is inevitable, but it's still kind of nice to be able to just. enjoy. it. I mean, the lazy Sunday afternoon of reading the paper over coffee and putting off chores; the exhausted collapse onto the living room couch after work and the ensuing catnap; impromptu hit or miss dinners and the conversation that flows (or does not) from the stove to the table; a stolen game of guitar hero. Yes, even the brisk morning walk to the corner, on a sunny day, can feel inspiring.

On the other hand, life flies by when the shit isn't hitting the fan, right? Which means that I shouldn't take this time for granted. Pretty soon it will be over. Not to be all morbid, but eventually the rejection and (hopefully) acceptance letters will be arriving in the mail. With those letters come decisions, and talks. Long talks and compromise. And change. Because even if we stay in Richmond, there will be change.

So maybe I should want these speedy little weeks to slow down. They are, after all, what I will remember about this time in my life.