As I sit here looking at the clock, wondering when it will FINALLY be time to punch out, I remind myself: One Sesame Street.
Clocks held little meaning to me as a child. Time was something abstract that adults worried there was too little of. If I had to ask "how long" the answer always meant too long. Instead, I started asking in relation to something that I knew very well....how many Sesame Street's was it? Was it a Sesame Street and a Mr. Roger's Neighborhood or just one Mr. Roger's? Time was broken into little fragmented units that I was able to wrap my brain around.
I still use this method to convince myself that something isn't really that far away. Just a few Big Birds and it'll be time for dinner. A few more and it'll be the weekend. A hell of a lot more and it'll be Christmas.
See? When broken down, it's a lot less daunting to count Snuffleupaguses than to think of the days and weeks ahead. And who wouldn't rather count Snuffleupaguses?
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