Of sense, there is none, or that is at least what I just thought to myself, but as it floats off like things we perceive as floating, it is gone, away from my grasp, unless it decides to float back once more.
There are days, there are years, there are decades. There are hours, there are minutes, there are seconds.
There are multiple ways of doing certain things, and yet the things that we do are usually done in one way, for it needs to suit the way we do the thing, despite there possibly being more efficient ways of doing certain things that we indeed do.
My arms are sore, but that is irrelevant right now, for this is the price that I pay for doing some of the things that I do indeed do.
Thoughts pass on by through the mind and off to somewhere else. Perhaps they get deconstructed in order to build new thoughts that float on by. Perhaps.
It is a consideration that is probably not worth considering.
Monday’s are weird.
People complaining about Monday is weird.
“It’s the start of the week, oh no, the week is too long, arg”, and so on.
It’s another day that we experience and people seem to dread that to some extent as it’s not some arbitrary point in the somewhat-determinate future, and yet this is something that they cannot wrap their head around for people choose to live for the weekend where they likely won’t do as much as they think they will do. Instead of maximising the time they have away from their jobs, they put as much off as they can until the weekend where the same issues that are usually “preventing” them from doing anything during the week are still in effect.
Monday is a wonderful thing, I think.
Well, that seems like a most natural conclusion.