Chesterton's story (parodied somewhat in the above title) has not only been a refreshing read, but also it serves well as my allusory excuse for missing yesterday's post. Gabriel Syme's confusion and paranoia from the stalking Professor Worms around chapter five allows me to consider how this past week, the week in which I'm soon to see my son-in-law leave for a year, has seemed a sudden rush into new and often perplexing situations.
Perhaps it's also the weather. Today we're to near record highs, but by tomorrow temperatures are expected to drop once again. And we're to have snow by Monday into Tuesday! That's been past few days. Oh, it's not my mood or general disposition; I've enjoyed the start of classes once again, and I've been progressing on a number of projects. No, it's been the keen awareness that something is just waiting to change direction on me, and I know it's coming.
Truly the anarchist is time itself. There's no governing the ticking of the clock: it simply ticks, and we're swept along in the arc field of the pendulum.
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