Because I am a freelance writer and not bound by an employer’s time constraints, I sometimes come unstuck in time. After all, hours, minutes, seconds are artificial constructs, divisions of a ribbon of time that flows on regardless of designations. I hang my sense of what day of the week it is on the girls’ schedules (if this is Girl Scouts, it must be Friday), and my sense of hour on whether Emily has had her long walk yet, and how soon I have to pick the Younger Girl up from school.
Needless to say, four-day weeks confuse me. Even when I was working a classic 9-5 day, I found that four-day work-weeks seemed longer than the regular five-day weeks: five days’ worth of work crammed into four days seems a high price to pay for a three day weekend. And then there are some days that just seem to need to to be on other days. All weekend long I was certain that Christmas was on Sunday, despite knowing, every time I looked at the calender, that the holiday fell on Monday this year. Which means that today, Boxing Day, would also be Tuesday. But all day I’ve had this persistent sense that today was Monday. Damned elastic, inconsistent and malleable Time!
All of this is by way of saying, Hey, I’m sorry. I forgot today was Tuesday. I shoulda been here earlier. Hope you all had a grand holiday, regardless of what day it fell on.