MISCELLANEOUS UNITS

I have fumbling days. Days I don't know what to say or do. Days I don't know where to put my hands. Or my knees. Or my elbows. Days eye contact is too intrusive; it's better to keep sunglasses on. 


Some days every decision seems doomed. 


There are seconds, and there are even smaller units: milliseconds, microseconds, nanoseconds, picoseconds, femtoseconds, attoseconds, aeptoseconds, and yoctoseconds. The attosecond is the shortest time now measurable. 

Larger units: minutes, hours, days and weeks. Then come fortnights and lunar months. Months and quarters. Years, common years, leap years, tropical years, Gregorian years, Olympiads. Lustrums, decades, indictions, generations, jubilees, centuries, millenniums. Exaseconds. Cosmological decades.

By no means is this list exhaustive. I'm not trying to wrap my brain around any of these measures; I don't possess the imaginative capacity to consider them in any meaningful way. 

What I love is that such systems of order exist; while I wander in circles, confused and exhausted because I forgot a grocery list, the world is chock full of gleaming, detailed classifications. The minute and vast are measurable. 


It all makes sense. To someone.