You would think that writing a book about Time, especially the End-of-Time, would give me a little leverage. But no, my day is STILL only 24 hours long.
Actually, it's less than 24 hours long.
You see, I believe Time is reading my book, peering over my shoulder as I write. And he's ANGRY (Time is masculine in case you didn't know) because things do not look good for him so far. As far as he can tell, Time ends.
So in revenge, Time is stealing my day. I blink and my day is over. I turn around and my baby is almost one.
If Time would please be patient, Time will see that all ends well in my novel. I am not planning on giving Time an unTimely death. In fact, I think we need to work on a compromise: Give me more day and I will let you live.