I could really do with some extra time right about now, thanks for asking.

It’s funny how when you’re young, you want time to speed up, to get certain parts over with. Or at least I did. I wanted school to be done, couldn’t wait for it to be June 30 each year. Couldn’t wait to finish grade twelve, move out on my own.

I moved out at seventeen, so excited to have a place that was mine (and my sister’s). Eat whatever I want, cook whatever I want, do whatever I want.

After that I was in a hurry to finish college, meet the man of my dreams, get married and have kids. Within three months of getting married I was pregnant. That’s when time started speeding up.

Now at my age, time seems to be going way too fast. I wish it would slow down. My Monday to Friday work week goes by in the blink of an eye and the weekend is the same.

And never mind the work week, Christmas itself comes around way too fast. The years seem to be ticking by the same way a big tall strong man grabs a hold of the wheel right near the top, on the Price is Right and gives it a spin. I’d prefer a spin like the small, short, little weak ladies do it. Barely any oomph.

So yeah, I need time. I want to stay in my forties for at least ten more years. I want Sid to stay little.

In my brain the absence of time, or existence, means you’re six feet under. I don’t really want that.