Where did the time go?

The biggest block to my writing these days is time.

Apparently I used to have a lot more of it.

I did steal a few moments to look and, evidently, the time/space continuum hasn't changed ... there are still 365 days in a year ... 7 days in a week ... 24 hours in a day ... 60 minutes in an hour  ... and 60 seconds in a minute.

Somehow they all seem shorter now and I don't like it one damn bit.

It's been said time grows shorter the older you get but I'm not old.

My life is full which is entirely different.

Every second I'm amazed living with this incredible woman who loves and accepts me more than I've ever experienced in my life.

There are also these three little girls who live here and even when they disappear, it makes me uneasy and I start to worry about what they're up to and how I can either prevent it ... or help it.

It's exhausting!

Then there's work ... sigh.

At Compassionate Care Hospice we help manage life's greatest transition ... talk about supply and demand!

People won't stop dying and it's driving me crazy because every time there's a break scheduled or a day off requested ... the Grim Reaper comes a' calling.

The guys a workaholic and I hate those kind of people!

If that wasn't enough, I find myself again ... inexplicably ... in charge of a Church that meets in a Bar.

Hmmm ... let's do the math ... work five days a week ... lead worship on Sunday = 6 days a week.

So with my free time, I work on being the rock star I was destined to become but never achieved.

On Tuesday nights I join Monty Parks Acoustic Jam at Doc's Bar where everyone's a sensitive songwriter bearing their heart and soul ... except me.

It's my job to lighten things up by singing "Dead Skunk in the middle of the road" or "Walk on the Tybee Side" ... my blatant rip off of a Lou Reed original ... and my current fan favorite "Keep the sticky side up" ... (In full disclosure I only have one fan and it's my wife who really does keep the sticky side up!).

Back to the math ... this gobbles up additional hours that I should keep for myself but ... it's fun and I have a good time.

Add sleep to the equation and there's no time left to write.

Where did the time go?

Having said that ... I'm having one Hell of a good time.