Bags of Flour

This weekend, during my weekly lab-hiatus, I spent some quality time with Mr. Peanut, by Adam Ross. While doing so, I came across a striking description:

"[David] went to the kitchen to get more coffee, fetch the paper from the front door, and boil himself an egg, thinking over the ruffling water that his life was only a history of such mornings, an ever-growing pile of eggs, the shells by now filling up the kitchen, spilling out into other rooms." 

flickr photo courtesy of sarowen 

Have you ever thought of the passage of time this way?

In terms of egg shells?  

How large would your pile be?  

Or maybe you would prefer a different object.  

soda cans?  

pencil shavings?  

junk-mail credit-card offers?

I fancy the thought of measuring with flour.  Last year, I went through about 16 five-pound bags of flour.  

Is that a lot?  

Maybe to some people.  But, I don't think so.  Not when I picture that mere 16-bag wall as the solitary barricade that stood between me and an ever-raging river of grad school disillusionment.   In fact, I think I probably need to stack another 16 bags on the wall this year.  I think a monsoon is coming...