There is a Time to Hang, a Time to Tape and a Time to Dry

So the Title Stays For Now

The idea for this musing came to me when I was working in my free time to install a few sheets of drywall in a closet underneath a set of stairs.  And while it was the time that passes (between taping and a finished product) that initially got me on the topic, it did not take long for me to decide instead to do a piece on the much larger circumstance of time.

And I could always start a post like this, like this — with some good old-fashioned truisms.  A clip of a saying, maybe — time flies, can’t be in two places at one time, a stitch in time, miller time, or any number of other catchphrases that have latched onto the word time throughout the years.  I could probably do a simple commentary on any one, and not another of these single phrases. Pass!  After all, I had already given myself the license to borrow from and tweak Ecclesiastes (or maybe it was just the Byrds).

image by b

Anyway — as it is my goal to pepper you occasionally with a random helping of free form essay, I set out to write this one.  And maybe I would talk about the time it takes for paint to dry, figuratively or not, and what to do while you wait.  And maybe I would tell you that these types of breaks, while not always welcome, are actually opportunities to work in other areas of your project.  That is — if you manage your time wisely, have an ability to multi-task some, and if you simply do something else.  But . . . I do not think I will write about that.

Rather I’ll Mention

When I initially sat down to write this, I was half empty . . . had writer’s block I guess. So I put it away for a week or so and, well . . . time passed.  I gained a little extra experience . . . and I learned.  I learned a few things in those few days and my thinking on this piece once again changed.

First off, I learned that I wasn’t the only one out there that was thinking about time.

In that week that I was away, I stumbled upon an essay by a gentleman that seems on a path quite similar to mine — “A Measure of Time” http://extremelyaverage.com/2010/02/a-measure-of-time-2/ (though posted in Feb.).  And then, not a day later, purely by chance . . . I saw Andy Rooney.  His rant for the week — “The Passage of Time” http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=6386098n. (Ironically — in this episode of 60 minutes, too, a segment on the discovery of what could end up being a missing link in our evolutionary chain.)

Must be the time of year, I thought.  The time of year when we, collectively, take the time to think about time.  Maybe it’s the season — play ball.  Or maybe it is the inevitability of tax day looming, which at this time of year comes . . . well, like, you know.

Right now, around here, doing inside work presents a little bit of a challenge. The weather is breaking – spring is springing.  And as is the nature of things, my instincts tell me to head outside.  And while I was here, up now at 6 and writing, the birds are chirping and actually it is Easter (while I wrote those few lines) – and I will be applying my second coat of drywall mud in the living room closet. Past, present, the time on the clock, the season — it was, and is, all my time.

And I’ll Finish Like This

I often go back to one night on a beach – a beer in hand and maybe a thunderstorm at sea. . . definitely in my early 20s, but I am not quite sure of the year.  A friend of mine, Jeff H. turned to me and said all too randomly (because I am sure I did not ask for the time) . . . he said – You know, somewhere in the world it’s midnight.  And he was right.

Time is all so very relative, a matter of how you view it and use it — sometimes a measuring tool, sometimes a marking tool, and at all times — moving forward.  In the time it took for my drywall mud to dry, a lot of things happened in this world. Birth, death, re-birth, and so on.  And yes, I intended to post this yesterday, but . . . I guess I simply missed my filing deadline.

Thanks for reading and BMoxie BMore!