A surprisingly enjoyable occurrence in my life is when I loose all care about time. It is also surprisingly rare. Most of my life is spent with time being a constant factor in the back of my head. There is always this weighing of the best use of it. ‘I need to be as efficient as possible with my….’. ‘Is what I am doing worth my….’? ‘Am I getting where I’m going in a short enough….?’ All my life, I have had a tendency to be afflicted with this sense of regret that I really should be doing something else. Even on a long and boring drive, I am trying to get the time to go by as fast as possible. There are, however, a few occasions when it seems like time loses meaning, or I lose all care of it. I could just keep doing whatever I am doing for eternity and I would not care. Sometimes it is just the day, and it does not matter what I am doing. That, however, is exceedingly rare. It appears like this is something that I can not force or plan, it must just happen. For me, it usually happens outdoors and it is only when I am in my ‘happy place’. One probably can’t, or shouldn’t, live this way, but it it is amazingly pleasant, when it happens. Today was one of those rare days, ‘biking’ with my wife, in the beautiful autumn woods in my glorified high speed electric wheelchair.