Relativity

Time is easy to lose track of. In that way, Time is a lot like car-keys or the television remote. You know it’s there, you know you need it, but where did it go? Around this time of year, with my birthday just a couple months away, I always seem to forget my own age. Not that I forget completely, but I go through this momentary lapse of reason where I think to myself, am I turning 27 or am I already 27? I also realised recently that whenever someone asks me how long I’ve been in Pakistan, my answer is always consistently one month behind. Someone asked me last night, and I diligently replied, "About six months," but when I added it up, it’s been over seven. Does seven months count as "about six months"? It’s a little off I think, but it’s not like I do it on purpose. Time is too fickle, too hard to pin down, too relative. I need something more tangible. You know how T.S. Eliot is always measuring out his life with coffee spoons (after all the evenings, mornings, afternoons… generally speaking)? Well, I don't have coffee every day, but it got me to thinking that I could probably measure out my life with toiletries. I do use toiletries every day. So, the next time someone asks me how long I’ve been in Pakistan, instead of saying 7 months and two weeks, I’ll say, "Oh, I’ve been here for about two and a half shampoo bottles." Or maybe, "It’s been about 3 deodorants now, since I got here." Or "About one can of shaving cream and four Gillette Mach Three razor blades, although this one is getting dull, and I tend to use those things for way too long." My friend Alastair, who prefers to be known as Tooter McFruiter, has told me that he’ll often judge time and distance in terms of bowel movements… ie: "We can drive from here to Toronto in just over two shits." (About 15 hours I would say.) I’m not dead sure of the value of such a frame of reference, but maybe it’s similar to doing the Kessel Spice run in under 12 parsecs.