It was just after sun up. The day was still mostly before me. (I'm a morning person so I feel doomed if I don't have my work underway by sun-up.) As I sat on the couch by the front window, I felt the hands of time approaching from some not too distant place, ready to swoop in and dig their gnarly claws into me. Move, move, move, I thought. It's the only way to escape the sense that time is going to do a painful number on me.
