“OMG. It’s almost the end of the week.
I need to get my weekly posts done.”
Um, no. At the moment of this panicked-but-mistaken realization, it was only mid-week: Wednesday, in fact. So why did it feel like a Friday or Saturday? Because the next day was Christmas Eve, the appointed day for turkey dinner in my household, to which tradition (and household) we are strictly sticking this year.
I guess with that endpoint in mind, I came unstuck from the flow of the week. Hardly surprising: This one-day-after-another business is pretty complex. I’m not too disturbed: I’ve had similar experiences when the week’s pattern was disrupted in some other way.
No, the disturbing bit came earlier.
“How long have you been doing that physio?”
– Doctor, just looking for the facts
in our over-the-phone consultation
I think for a moment and find a hook of some sort to win at Name that Month.
” Oh, a long time.”
– Me, playing for time
“Since, um, September?”
– Me, uncertainly
I’m uncertain because something about that feels wrong.
“September this year?”
– Doctor, trying to identify the uncertainty she hears –
is it about the month
(since, well, September isn’t that long ago)
or the year (which seems ridiculous)
I consider and reject that timeline out of hand: It’s not September this year, for goodness sake. I’ve been traipsing forth to and back from physio for FOREVER.
“No, it’s been a long time.
It must be September 2019.”
– Me, confidently
– Doctor, carefully managing her tone
I hear that careful tone and stop to consider all that has happened since September 2019. That was in the Before Times, right? The times when we made trips out West to see family for Christmas, sojourned in Phoenix after the New Year, sojourned abbreviatedly in Myrtle Beach, isolated ourselves for two weeks upon our return to Canada, received irregular and unpredictable grocery deliveries at home, spent months and months in lockdown, traversed a long hot summer, and, well, saw another September.
“Oh. No. I guess . . . just this September.”
– Me, reluctantly
But although it’s clearly the correct, the accurate, the true answer, I don’t just sound reluctant: I am reluctant. As right as it must be, it seems . . . wrong. How can this interminable period in my head be just a few months?
I guess with no endpoint in view, I have come unstuck from the flow of the year. Hardly surprising: This one-month-after-another business is pretty complex.