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Friday, December 16, 2011

How does five minutes always become hours?

Whenever I call my mother and ask her when she is coming home from the school (she is a teacher) she always says she'll be back in five minutes... and it always, always, always longer. Like waaaaay longer. Around several hours later.

This horrible understanding of time seems to be inherited. My father does it to, but only when referring to work and only when he's talking to my brother. It's rather amusing to hear them talk.

"It's only going to take five minutes."

Six hours later.

"How much longer?"

"Oh, only about five minutes."

"WHAT?"

"..."

It's a rather terrifying problem. And I seem to have inherited it too. Except mine only comes out when I am reading, or watching a movie, or I really, really, really do not want to do something. I can pretty much be an epic pain when I don't want to do something. It's not a pretty sight.

Last night my mother had her school Christmas program... It was pretty good. The singing wasn't so great, but that was only when the kids tried to do a three part harmony. I am going to suggest to her that she stick with single harmony songs. Mostly because it is really difficult to get a group of kids to sing in harmony, much less a rather complex three part song. And she doesn't have that many kids, maybe 20. Probably less. And not all of the kids can sing... not to be mean, but some of them can just not carry a tune. Which is totally understandable, not everyone can sing, and not everyone who can sing is understandable.

When my mom was a kid she would sing duets with her younger brother (my uncle). He would carry the tune wonderfully (he is freakishly musically talented. I am slightly angry I didn't inherit that.) and my mother would "sing" along so everyone could understand what he was saying. She tells the story a lot. Her younger sister joined them after she was born, my aunt was the cute one (this is my addition to the story, my aunt was adorable as a girl and is really beautiful now).

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