Time

Who knew I’d grow up to be Professor Hinkle?

I mean, I listen to him say, “Sorry to lose and run, but I’m going to be busy, busy, busy writing!”

In his case, he had to go home and write “I’m sorry for what I did to Frosty” a hundred zillion times in order to maybe, just maybe mind you, get a new top hat from Santa.

I don’t even want a top hat.

Busy is good, I will admit. Busy helps the ten-hour work days go by faster. I could kinda wish, however, that the busy would end at the end of the work day and I’d have time to get other stuff done.

I sound familiar. Oh yeah:

And, inevitably, this is going to play a role somehow.

Because, obviously, there is no pressure. Viz:

President Gordon B. Hinckley has pleaded that we “work at our responsibility as parents as if everything in life counted on it, because in fact everything in life does count on it.”

He continued: “I ask you men, particularly, to pause and take stock of yourselves as husbands and fathers and heads of households. Pray for guidance, for help, for direction, and then follow the whisperings of the Spirit to guide you in the most serious of all responsibilities, for the consequences of your leadership in your home will be eternal and everlasting.”

I do not know what to cut. Facebook. But no. That’s a social outlet, one of the few I have.

I need more hours. More hours.

I have a book on its 17^th revision. Maybe I’ll finish it this year. Been saying that for three years now.

Where does the time go?

And why couldn’t I be the fastest “belly-whopper” in da woild instead?