There is something about Time that eludes me. I don't know why I can't seem to keep track of it, but, as it is, I'm just wasting it. Or it's wasting me.
I'm off work this week. My way to protest the cold weather (which, by the way, hasn't actually been that cold this year.) My first day off was Saturday (if you want to count that since I'm always off on Saturday). When I went to bed Saturday night I realized that I had no idea if the next day was Sunday or Monday and for one puzzling moment I thought it might even be Tuesday. I considered getting out of bed to check but decided it was too late to be worth the effort so I didn't.
When I got up the next day, I turned on the computer to learn it was only Sunday. That's today, but it seems longer ago than this morning.
When I go back to work in a week, people will ask me "How was your time off" and I'll reply, "Fine, but it was too short." Then I'll pause and ask nonchalantly, "By the way, what day is it?"
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