Never enough of it. Always want more of it.
I need time for my now-injured pin to heal. I need time to write, train, eat, sleep and, y’know, be married. I need time to shrink during my commute, expand during everything else (except trips to the dentist). I need time to read, time to weed, time to let the bread rise. Time to learn fingering patterns, time to learn the steps, time to stretch, time to ice, time to heal. Time to slow cook that bolognaise, time to let the ribs sit, time to figure out how to move beyond this limiting, broken meat that hurts when it breaks.
Time. Let me know if you figure out how to do something with it.