Time is warped.
Spatial relationships are out of whack.
And logic - well, there's nothing remotely logical about it.
I base these observations on no less authority than the master of gray matter himself, Sherlock Holmes. Holmes once told Watson, ''Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.''
The improbable is proven.
Take your common, ordinary to-do list. As unlikely as it seems, the size of the list grows proportionately by the vigor with which you attempt to shrink it.
Simply put, the more things you cross off, the more there's left to do.
Reverse illogic also works. If I jam my to-do list toward the back of the bookcase and stack some newspapers, a couple mugs and a stray sock on top of it and forget it for a week or three, by the time I excavate it, half the things on there no longer need doing. I can't remember what some of them are.
But if I keep that pesky list in the open to check off items as I go, pretty soon, I'm looking for tape and more paper because the harder I work, the more I find that needs done.
Improbabilities. But they're true.
Have you noticed how you're replacing your wall calendar more frequently? Barely have you put one up before the bank or insurance company or doctor's office is offering you a new one.
That's because clocks are speeding up.
When I was a kid, at least a decade passed between Christmases and a school year dragged on for six or seven. Now my birthday shows up at least twice and sometimes three times a year. I don't think March, May and October even come on a standard calendar anymore, such is the acceleration of time.
As improbable as it seems, there IS a time warp and we are living in it.
Spatial relationships really have me baffled.
The castle where we lived before I was old enough to go to school had a ''U''-shaped driveway. There were acres and acres of land between the legs of the driveway. It was an enormous field in which to tumble and summersault and run forever.
On a whim not so long ago, I stopped by my childhood home. Not only had the house been replaced by a much smaller replica, but now there aren't much more than a half-dozen steps between the legs of the driveway. Time had shrunk space.
But other distances expanded! I used to sprint a 40-yard-dash in a few ticks of a stopwatch. Now when someone marks off 40 yards, I have to adjust my bifocals to make sure I can see that far. Then I fill a second water bottle to make the trip.
Need more evidence, middle-agers, that spatial relationships are askew? Take a peek at mirror. Notice anything? When did your chest and stomach switch places? And how come the snaps on your jeans no longer greet each other in the same place?
Spatial relationships are screwy.
We know from these observations that it impossible that time is moving at the same speed, that distances fit the same measures and that everyday things make a modicum of sense. So since we've eliminated the impossible, what remains is this:
Time is warped. Spatial relationships are out of whack. And there's nothing remotely logical about logic.
It's an elementary deduction.
---- Consult with Sherlock Cole at firstname.lastname@example.org.