The Days Go By

This is kind of new for me. I am not a great sleeper but from about 5 a.m. till 8:30 a.m. I can put Van Winkle to shame. So deep is my sleep during that period I sometimes wake up not knowing who I am or where I am. But a couple of times a week, lately, I wake up thinking it is a different day than it actually is. This is probably not unusual for a lot of people, especially those of us who are retired for whom every day can seem like Saturday with no markers like a job to go to to structure your week. I often wake up on Friday thinking it is Saturday. But a new twist today. I woke up thinking it was Friday. After a few minutes getting ready for whatever day it was, I realized it was Thursday, and that came as a relief for some reason. I have no cause to dread this Friday, but I was glad it was Thursday. Then I remembered I have a doctor’s appointment on Thursday and recalled that that is tomorrow. So today can’t be Thursday; it must be Wednesday. I am looking forward to Saturday, whenever that is.

©2019 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.