It seems to me that October is going by as quickly as the months that preceded it. Actually, it’s going by even faster than the months that preceded it. As we age, the months go by faster. So each month, this one included, go by a set amount faster than the month included. It doesn’t matter that towards the end of the year, the days are shorter. The question is, is this an illusion? Twenty-four hours is 24 hours no matter what. However, we perceive 24 hours to be going by faster.

Time’s fun when you’re having flies.

I pause, and as I pause, time does slow down. So maybe my perception, that time is going by faster, has to do with the fact that I continue to find fun things to do.

Some things are more fun to do than other things. For instance, today I gave the drop box that Bill S. made for the book project, two coats of varnish. I was originally going to paint the box blue and the trim yellow. And Nan was going to paint the northern lights on it. But alas, when I opened the cans of paint that I originally picked up from the re-use shop, I discovered that they were no longer useable. Must have froze.

Alys takes out the goat bedding

Painting the box wasn’t as arduous a task as was harvesting carrots, which took a few hours. I was inside, and it took me at the most a half-hour to sand and paint the box. But still, I didn’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would because I had so many other things to do. The rain stopped as I laid down the drop cloth, and right then I wanted to be outside, riding the horses. If the rain continued, I would have remained more in the moment.

I’m spoiled. Pete cooks and does more than his share of the cleaning. He also pays the bills and takes care of car maintenance. So I have gotten used to doing what I want to do. Once in a while, though, as with painting the box, I have to do things that I don’t want to do, and this requires that I be patient, which now is not my forte.

And so, if I did more (perceived) dull and boring things, time would go by slower.

Time does seem to shudder and almost come to a grinding halt when I’m hand milking Swampy. The milking machine broke a few days ago, and so I am engaging in manual labor. I don’t particularly like hand milking because I can only do one side at a time. But tonight, for a bit, I was milking both sides. I think, too, if the milk stand was higher, and I wasn’t crouched down, that I’d better take to this task.

It is odd, what I perceive to be dull and boring. I am generally quite content, cleaning the horse, chicken, or goat pens. Others, I’d imagine, would find doing this sort of work to be onerous. Why is it, then, that we like or dislike doing certain things? To this, I have no answers, just more and more questions.

Next: 281. 10/11/21: Build It