Five More Minutes

It starts in the mornings when the alarm clock first rings. “Five more minutes,” I think. “I’ll get up in five more minutes.”

Naturally, that first five is really nine, because that’s what the snooze button is set to. But that’s ok, because I don’t really sleep the entire nine minutes. Sometimes I do, but usually it’s a time spent in foggy contemplation of what the day is going to bring. 

Then, in the shower, I tell myself just five more minutes of hot water. That’s all I need to finally feel awake. 35 minutes later, I get out and get dressed, all the time thinking I just need another five minutes and I’ll be out the door. 

Throughout the day, I find myself telling others – “give me five minutes and I’ll let you know.” A very good friend said that lately I seem to be in an alternate universe, where five minutes can be only two, or even ten hours later. Everything just moves so fast lately. 

I’ve told my family the same thing. Five more minutes until the show is over. Five minutes left until bedtime. If you don’t do X in the next five minutes, we’re going to have a meltdown. 

And I can’t help but wonder when it’s going to reverse. From – “Give me just five more minutes” – to “If I only had five more minutes.”

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About Chelle

I'm just me. WYSIWYG. A little dash of hyper, a little more of sarcasm. And a whole bunch of honesty.
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