I am not normal. My internal clock runs on a system of abstract events. Not that time is a very direct thing to work with, but I’d venture to say I’m less aware of measured time than most.
Math was never my strong point. I’m good with ideas, theories, words, philosophy. The thought of putting things together. Not so much unyielding number patterns. I over think too much. There’s not enough room for change in mathematics. Now, if numbers had synonyms, we might get along.
When I want to make something in the kitchen, I usually don’t bother with measuring cups and spoons. I add ingredients here and there until the thing looks, smells, and tastes right.
Seasons have nothing to do with a calendar. If I walk outside my door and the sun tries to cook me up, it’s summer. Putting on a sweater and still needing a blanket means it’s winter. Fall is a windy day with colorful leaves, and spring is cool showers and sunshine without the burn. Yesterday, my friend asked what season the end of Phantom takes place. I said winter, because, “there was snow in All I Ask of You.”
Breakfast is when I’m hungry for pancakes. Lunch is when I eat some form of food that isn’t breakfast between the time I get up and go to bed. Sometimes lunch is at 7:00pm because that’s when I find food.
I’m horrible at remembering names, birthdays, and appointments. If I couldn’t punch all my work hours into my phone, I’d be doomed.
Right now my computer says it’s wintertime; February 12th at 1:47 in the afternoon.
But my feet are warm, I have birdie earrings on, and just ate half a chocolate chip cookie with my coffee. So it must be tea time in the spring.