The fact that time passes so quickly when you're having fun and so slowly when you're not is one of life's most cruel twists. And, yeah, I understand that it only feels that way, but isn't that enough?

I ended up working only a little bit this past weekend, which meant that I had some time to set up my wood shop in my garage and get started on some projects (mostly involving my art studio, which has been gutted so I can build something new that actually functions how I need it to).

On Saturday, it was just past 11:30pm before I realized how late it had gotten. I went to check the clock to make sure it wasn't too late to run my miter saw (I try to never make noise after 9:00pm) and had no idea that I had been happily working away for over nine hours. I honestly expected it to be around 8:00pm when I looked. On Sunday I ended up cleaning house all morning and working until late into the night... losing track of time. Again.

Meanwhile on my Monday I thought my day was near over only to find out that it was only 2:00. And even that seemed as if I had been in the office for an eternity.

It's a darn shame that I need to work to pay for building materials.

And pay for my mortgage and food and stuff, of course.