It started in slow motion, so I guess I thought I had more time. I am digging myself deeper as I force the pushing pause.
A proposal: let’s count the ways in which we measure time, not the seconds where they’re frozen. The stacking empty bottles might not be best, since their rate of accumulation is a calculated constant flux. But the sky is useless too: it’s always sunny from my bed. A step outside for clarity, a misty shaded other mess.
An experiment: I’ll tie a string around my finger with a weight tied to the other end, which I’ll drag behind me until we come back where we begin. To encircle so much nothing when we were trying to measure time, you could talk about the forward motion while I backtrack reaching for rewind.
This will never last. I’ll just go back to counting seconds as the clock ticks one by one, and turn one single day into 86,400 individual acts of indecision.