The Space-Time Continuum

Einstein's famous equation (E = MC Escher) explains the cosmic phenomenon of space-time compression that occurs during weekends, as well as the principle of space-time elongation that happens whenever you're in a business meeting where they didn't provide donuts.

This weekend gave me the unusual opportunity to experience both temporal shrinkage and chronological stretchosity, almost simultaneously. It was a weekend, yes, and therefore fun and quick...but I also did my taxes, which is a billion times worse than any snack-deficient business development status review. Ugh.

A quick review: Friday was excellent! After swim practice, Reynold and I strapped on our snowshoes and plowed through 5 miles of thick virgin powder around the gravel pond at Chatfield. Time flew by as he told me of his plans to imitate Leo DiCaprio by swimming in the Atlantic in April as part of a cruise to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the Titanic's ill-fated voyage. His wife is the star of the show, and it sounds like a pretty cool event for history buffs. (Will they really let him dive in the ocean and swim butterfly among the icebergs? We'll have to wait and see.)

(And yes, my pants were soaking wet by the end of the hike. Why do you ask?)

I was pretty tired when I woke up Saturday morning. But I enjoyed a short run and a tough swim practice before getting a massage late in the evening. The rest of the day was spent doing chores and paperwork. Again, time moved at warp speed.

But on Sunday, I was determined to make a good effort at finishing up my taxes. I had put it off for a couple of reasons: 1) Figuring out taxes always elevates my blood pressure. Not only are the forms and instructions frustratingly complex and incomprehensible, but the whole process reminds me of how stupidly our money is often spent. Seriously, how many government programs do you actually recognize as beneficial?

Interstate highways? Sure. The Marine Corps? Obviously. NASA? Of course. Area 51 and the rest of the GCCB (Giant Conspiracy Cover-up Bureau)? Well certainly.

And I suppose you could argue that International Diplomacy merits some consideration (though I'm sure we could have a lively discussion about different ways it might be handled). And I suppose you could make a case for agencies to monitor the amount of rat poison that cereal companies are allowed to inject into Froot Loops, because you know they'd do it if nobody was watching. But seriously, do we need people to tell us which light bulbs we can use, or that we need mandatory warning labels telling us not to use a sharpened pencil to clear water from our ears?

2) I also put off doing my taxes because I was afraid I'd have to come up with extra money. Changing jobs and the associated shuffling of retirement funds offered several opportunities for unanticipated tax impacts. I was afraid that my Lockheed Martin severance package was going to leave me with a hefty bill that would be due on April 16th.

On the other hand, if it turned out that I'd be getting a refund, then putting it off is just plain silly. And since my normally-cluttered social calendar had somehow opened up on Sunday, it just seemed like a good time to get it done.

I'll spare you the agony of a line-by-line description of the ordeal. It was horrid, and probably took several years off my life, but I'm happy to report that the forms have been submitted. I am also happy that I didn't need to come up with any extra cash, and will actually get a little bit of my money back. I wish I could feel grateful to Uncle Sam for holding onto it for me lo these many months...but I somehow think that the money would've been put to better use if it had been in my hands.

Yeah, I know; that's an unpatriotic attitude. According to our elected representatives, I should be wanting to give them far more than what they took already. They obviously know better places to spend it than I do.

Anyway, the point is that the hours spent filling out IRS paperwork dragged like Marty McFly behind MadDog Tannen's horse. And the hours spent swimming, running, and snowshoeing vanished like Crispin Glover's tombstone. Einstein was right. (The funky-haired dude, not the dog -- sorry to mix my metaphors.) Time is flexible.

Before I close for the day, though, I'd like to make a few other random observations.

1) Abo's Pizza at Chatfield & Kipling has closed. I hate to see any pizza place go out of business...but I especially hate it when I had plans to dine there for lunch. I have no idea how long they've been gone; which may be part of the reason they folded. If I haven't been there for months, then perhaps no one else has either. And that's not good for business. So, I do understand...but it still makes me sad. I like pizza.

The good news is that it was fairly close to Qdoba, so my immediate hunger was still satiated. But I had to make a pizza at home Saturday night to work off the specific appetite. And that has undesirable impacts on my girlish figure. Ugh.

2) Have you ever noticed that Danny DeVito almost always plays roles where he's in charge of stuff? I saw a movie called "Drowning Mona" on TV this weekend. DeVito was the sheriff in a town where everybody wanted to kill Bette Midler. I was entertained by the movie, but it did make me wonder how many real life sheriffs are his size. It seems to me that the real world tends to discriminate toward people of diminutive stature. This may have changed as the world has become more enlightened, but I remember when I first hired on with Martin Marietta, I noticed that nearly all of the managers and executives were very tall. The ones I knew were not necessarily more competent than their shorter counterparts, so it seemed to me as if there might have been some caveman hierarchy mechanisms at work. Am I wrong? And if so, why is it that DeVito has been so successful in roles as the boss?

3) About 50 years ago, pretty much everybody wore a hat. A cool hat with a full brim and carefully-shaped top...not just a ballcap. I watched an episode of "The Invisible Man" TV series the other night, and noticed that even the criminals who were climbing across the rooftops to break into the science lab were wearing fedoras. Why would you wear a fedora for performing a felony? And when did that whole idea fade away, anyhow? Nowadays, the only people with those kinds of hats are pretentious poets and Indiana Jones wannabees.

A few decades from now, some nerdish blogger will point out that everybody used to wear neckties. Or that women wore dresses. Or that people use to walk around without ear buds jammed in their sound holes.

Which reminds me -- that sloshing noise is still happening inside my head. It still doesn't hurt, but I'm considering going to the doctor just because they'll have the tools to look in there and see if it's really a drop of trapped pool water, or if part of my brain has come loose and melted.

I'll let you know what I find out. In the meantime, I hope that time flows at exactly the rate you want it to, and that any Biff you may have in your life is spending his time face-down in the manure. Have a great day!