It dawned on me today that I've been in my new apartment for about a month-and-a-half. That's already longer than any one place I stayed in the entirety of 2013. Every person, every stop, every adventure that graced my life last year that I can attach to a specific place in the world came in chunk of time smaller than the time I've spent here.
A month-and-a-half last year was long enough to get whisked-away on unintended nightclub adventures in Nairobi, catch shooting stars from the shores of Zanzibar and a balcony in Athens and learn functionally-phonetic Greek. This year it has been long enough to marvel at how many bananas and pounds of coffee I can go through, work on the perfect smoothie recipe and re-learn how much yoga makes me happy.
It has not been long-enough for me to find a chair I like yet though. Or much furniture at all, frankly.
Time has an elastic capacity to accommodate the number experiences we're willing to cram into it and the depth with which we're willing them.