She is in conflict with time. She loves to waste it when she has plenty at her hand. She knows well that it will snap back at her hand like a broken over-stretched rubber band. She sometimes wishes that time was like the tape in old audio cassettes that she could rewind with a juggle of an ordinary HB pencil.
She used to think of her life in time labelled boxes ... tens, teens , twenties. She feels less need of boxes now as twenties box has some teens stuff and the stuff of the childhood spills everywhere. (There is some even in the new thirties box.)
She doesn’t want to be a time traveler. It would be too much to travel in time. Jet lags of such advanced stage might kill her mental decorum. But she won’t mind if a time traveler comes to visit and shares stories of his exploits and thinks of her in special terms.