I have recently realised that my life has begun to be measured in Mickey Mouse time increments.
As I walk past the television showing nothing but Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, I note that Mickey and Donald, on their quest to find Donald's Boo Boo chicken, have only just begun to climb the beanstalk. "Good" I say to myself, "at least 15 minutes left for me to finish the vacuuming."
"Mickey's pumping up the tyres on the toon car - 10 minutes of blog stalking left."
"What!? Are we really already up to the fourth mouskatool? I need to get my butt into gear or I am NEVER going get these clothes folded."
"Is that 'shake, shake, shake your peanut' I hear?" I murmur as I furiously mix the last of the ingredients together for our dinner. "I am so screwed... I still have to peel the potatoes."
And like the mathematic problems laboured over so diligently throughout my high school years, I now labour over this sort of mathematical problem - "If Mickey and Minnie are still on the boat with Pete in Minnies quest to find the Hula Hibiscus, and my shower time (sans the leg shaving) can be accomplished in less than 15 minutes, will both events finish at the same time?"
I call it Mickey time. I am sure LQ would call it something like "Mi joo".