Some of my reading is frustrating. Why? Because it states the obvious.
So, for instance I learnt, and don’t shoot the messenger because the message is blindingly clear: We have twenty four hours a day. Well, obviously and because I am extra special, I do have twenty FIVE hours – but that’s delusion for you. For all I know I am dead already and will live till eternity eats itself inside out.
Yes, so twenty four hours a day are the great equalizer. Rich man, poor woman. Squander at your leisure, work yourself into a lather. Doesn’t matter. Twenty four hours every day. Regardless. By way of non sequitur: In the olden days we were told that even Kings and Queens had to go to the toilet.
If twenty four hours a day for everyone is meant to be comforting, it isn’t. As capital goes there is no interest. Which in itself is no problem as long as the capital is not likely to be exhausted. And don’t fool yourselves by punishing your body going for endless runs or whatever is your poison to keep you from falling apart.
Once upon a time I had an egg timer. After some years of vague and irrational irritation every time I used it I got rid of it. Keeping an eye on all that sand (five minutes) running at the rate of knots was unnerving.
Hard boiled yours,