Ten Hours

This weekend I spent a lot of time sitting in front of a gas fire with a giant clock over the mantle piece. Between napping, trying to write and thinking a little about Jung's Red Book, I had a vision. If decades are like hours on a clock, my life's at 4:30 PM (assuming we start at Noon), and if I live to be 100 years old, that would be like going to bed at 10:00 PM. There's something sobering about compressing one's life that way. But there's also something nice about knowing that I still have five and a half "hours" left (and about four and a half of those will be productive assuming I inherit my maternal grandmother's longevity genes).