I find time to be my worst enemy. I always seem to be rushing no matter what. Rush to get to work… rush to get through work… rush to get home from work. I even rush home from work when I have nothing special planned. Why? I have no idea. I was driving home one evening, talking to my boyfriend and he asked me why I always “rush to my death.” I thought about it for a second, kind of speechless and realized he was absolutely right. What’s the point of rushing? Most of the time when you don’t rush, you actually get there when you’re supposed to. What is it about us humans wanting to rush through everything? What exactly are we rushing to anyway? Life is short and if anything, we should be taking it slow and enjoying every moment. I just want to stop and smell the roses for a while.