Tuesday June 26, 2007
I’ve got my days completely mixed up this week. It was fine when I got up this morning and pitched into the task of schlepping the trash and the recycling stuff out to the kerb, with Graham’s help. I knew it was Tuesday then because Tuesday is trash day.
Shortly after we started out for the holiday camp, though, the bell rang, the magic land at the top of the faraway tree rotated, and I was convinced it was Wednesday. So much so that I convinced Graham, too, and we were congratulating ourselves on the departure of Tony Blair. Which doesn’t happen until tomorrow. Wednesday, that is.
For a short time, sitting on the sofa in the caravan, I had a flash of Friday but, by the time I got home I was firmly and irrevocably fixed in Sunday.
It’s going to make the rest of this week rather interesting. I think that my best approach would be to close my calendar and refuse to put day names to the dates. I’ve already named this entry for Monday and Saturday before I had the sense to consult the windows calendar thingummy.
Can’t ignore the pesky calendar, though. I have days to remember. Thursday is the day when Graham’s mother visits, and I need to go over to pick her and Graham up from the holiday camp, lunch them here, and then take them back in time for tea. Sunday is the day when Graham comes home for his ‘weekend’. So Wednesday and Saturday are the days when I need to clean and tidy the house and garden. All I need do is conjure up some inescapable task for Friday and all will be well.
Am I bothered? No, not really. And neither is Dolly the Mega-cat. Neither Mega-cats nor poets really need calendars, you see.
The author, webmaster, and minder of the cat