Where the hell does the “hour” in my lunch hour go?

 

I swear, my lunch break defy’s physical laws of nature and probably accounts for Einstein’s crazy hair and the theory of relativity, all at once. I think you know what I’m talking about. When all you have is one allotted hour to leave work, get something to eat, scarf it down, and return in time so that no one’s pissed at you for cutting into their lunch “hour”, your hour starts to look more and more like about 15 minutes. Even, when you’ve got an hour to kill. Ever notice? You get somewhere early, like the doctor’s office, or something, and you think you’ve got all this time to kill, so you grab a coffee and scoot over to the bookstore to drool over the latest (pick your poison) release. Mill around, peruse, think about grabbing a bite to eat, look at your watch and go, “Oh, shit, now I’m late for my appointment!” It never fails.

Lunch goes something like this (for me, anyway; I’m pretty boring): I’ve got a whole hour and I think I can drive home (6-8 minutes, in light traffic), make a dry ham and cheese sandwich to eat with some chips (15 minutes, tops), and get some quick chores done. But, no. By the time I finished my sandwich, peed, and restarted my daughter’s blanket in the dryer-which consists of turning a dial and pushing a button, because the blanket was already in there-I already had to leave for work or risk being late. As it was, I clocked back in, with only three minutes to spare. My obvious question, here, is where the hell did the other half of my lunch disappear, to? Is it floating around in the ether, somewhere, with Amelia Earhart and that whole Roanoke settlement, partying with the crew of the Mary Celeste and surrounded by all the lost dryer socks and our childhood dreams?

I do. I just want to know where the time goes. I’m curious enough about such things, that I believe my dying wish, were I to be condemned with cancer, or some such affliction, would be to get launched into a black hole, just to see what happens.

I know. I’m crazy. Thanks for reading, anyhow.

-J-

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