All day yesterday, I could have sworn it was Wednesday. At any point from the time I woke up in the morning until I was corrected that evening, if you asked me I would have told you it was Wednesday. Wanting to get the work in my cottage done before the weekend, this time was slippage into the future was causing some stress. Last evening Birmingham and I were going over the week’s schedule with an eye to this weekend’s Comic-con in NYC, when he revealed to me the day I was experiencing was Tuesday. Dubious, I checked my cell phone, which confirmed the Tuesdayness of the day, and I relaxed a bit with the gift of an extra day to spruce up the place.
I write this now because I just realized the reason for my week-day confusion. I no longer have an hour and 15 minute commute every morning, so I no longer listen to the morning show on the classic rock station in the car. Once a week, they do twofer Tuesdays, giving me a point of reference to the day of the week. I’ll be sitting at the computer at work, trying to remember where in time I am, and think back to the two Led Zepplin songs in a row that morning, and BAM! I know I’m experiencing the phenomenon of Tuesday. Now, I wake up, shower, make some breakfast, and go right to work. There is no time to hear two full songs in a row during my 5 minute commute. The reception of my favorite NYC radio station is so weak; there is no chance I’ll be listening at home. My new conundrum is how to remember what day it is without having to resort to some old fashioned analog device, like a calendar.
