Overtime

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain.
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today.
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you.
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.

So you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again.
The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older,
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.

Every year is getting shorter never seem to find the time.
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over, Thought I'd something more to say. . .

--Pink Floyd. "Time", Dark Side of the Moon. (1973)

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
After a game where the home team somehow managed to get the ball up court, dribble a couple of times, then drive in for a shot (the clock had said 1.5 seconds remaining, you see), the visiting coach stormed into the home team coach's office asking who in the hell the clock operator was.

"Calm down, I don't want you hurting anybody," the home coach said."I don't want to hurt the guy," the visitor said. "I just want him to time the rest of my life."

Ditto. I got the 2nd quote from either Dean Schmitz or Scott Bandstra, I think. Stand up and take credit, whoever. Stand up and take credit, whoever. July 7, 2007, has come and gone and here I am. If anybody, took the under, time to pay up. There's no shame in admitting it, I didn't think I was going to make it several times. But here I am still standing, although my body is hurting and my days are growing shorter. E-Mails and blog comments are always welcome, please set up visits in advance.