It's that time of the year, again.

I always face a constant danger: time. By this I don't mean that it's eating away at me. Nor am I thinking of some craziness wherein I am catastrophically expecting the end of the world. I mean it in the sense that I've got too much of it.

This always happens come break. (Yes, our Thanksgiving break has begun for almost all of the men of the house. Sadly, a very few still have class tonight or the pre-theologians have some tomorrow.) I end up having so much time on my hands that I feel lost and don't know what to do.

After coming back from dinner tonight, I was talking with another guy in the house and he said he experienced the same. He sauntered aimlessly about his room, until finally he just sat down at his computer and began to waste his time away.

Sure, I have enough homework to do. I've got old papers to make sure I accomplish, I've got papers which aren't due for a month which I could begin. But it's all so distant to me now. All that stands before me is the vast immensity of having time on my hands.

So, I sit here and write. And I think come 7:00 I may watch a bit of the news and social commentary. Then I'll try sit down and do some real homework. Afterall, I do need to accomplish some work during the course of this break and plenty of time will be spent not doing homework but hanging out with my family. But I always run the risk of not actually sitting down and doing it because, "Hey! I've got all the time in the world!"

For now, however, I just sort of float about, in the vast sea of free-time, and marvel, "Ain't it grand?"