As I get older, I find myself constantly less irritated by the slow drivers that seem to always get in front of me. I used to fuss and fume. Now I just kind of sit back and enjoy the ride. Well, not always, but more and more often. I find this produces two juxtaposition ideas.
On the one side I’m getting older and I am retired, so I have more time. What is the rush? I’ve learned that most things will wait for me to get there, and if it requires being super on time, it may not be worth doing.
On the other side, I don’t have as much time. I’m getting old. The clock is winding down. I don’t claim I have crested the hill and started down the other side, but I’m certainly getting close to the summit. So maybe I should hurry up a little bit more. Maybe I should be more impatient. After all, they may be robbing me of my last chance to stop at my favorite restaurant or visit the library. You never know about these things.
At least it builds my character.
homo unius libri
Opus 2026-168: On the Street: What’s My Hurry
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