The passing of time

I can't believe it.
Yet another Argos catalogue has been released into the wild.
It feels like yesterday when the autumn/winter installment of this never ending literary enterprise was unleashed onto its avid readership.
For some reason it depressed me.
That and the renewal of my password at work (every sixty days). It felt like I had last changed my password last week.
What have I done that could be considered worthwhile between the two? Where has my life gone? I try to dig in the heels and make it last. Milk the days. Record them here.
But it already feels like the machine has started spiraling out of control. And a hunch tells me that it isn't going to slow down any time soon, oh no.
The foot is stuck on the accelerator.
I baked two tarts for the Haiti coffee morning at work.
Haiti should have had coffee mornings organised for them even before they were hit by the hearth quake.
By the time the next spring/summer Argos catalogue has been released, they will have sunk back into the extreme misery and global indifference that has always been theirs.
I will have changed my password 3 times (or handed a P45 once).

Not that it seemed to bother these 2 ladies. They were having a smoke and a natter while sitting on the palette of new catalogues.
And they did not object to my taking their photograph. Not in the least. Thank you ladies, you did brighten up my lunch break.