The practical consequence, which is the part I find genuinely useful: if the effect comes from a lack of distinguishable events, it is partly under your control.
Things that reliably make a period feel longer in retrospect:
Novelty, in any amount. A new route to work, an unfamiliar place at the weekend, a skill you are bad at. It does not have to be dramatic; it has to be different enough to be encoded separately.
Travel, which is the strongest version and why a two week trip can outweigh the three months around it in memory.
Marking things. Photographs, a few lines written down, anything that creates a retrievable anchor. People who keep even a sparse journal consistently report a fuller sense of their own past.
Learning something, because early learning is dense in a way that competence is not.
What compresses time: identical weeks, the same route, the same rooms, and: increasingly: days where the memorable content was on a screen and is indistinguishable from the day before.
None of this changes how fast Tuesday goes. It changes how much of this year exists when you look back at it in December, which is the thing you are actually noticing.