Blah blah, Blah

I woke up today, and I didn't know what day it was.

I guess for some people that might be disorienting or something. Maybe, for some people, it's a pretty regular occurrence. For me, it was crazy, highly unusual. I couldn't remember the last time I'd woken up and didn't immediately know what day it was. Why? I'm not sure. It was great though, I reveled in it. I took the opportunity to let today be whatever day I wanted it to be.

Wednesday. I decided today would be a Wednesday.

Here is where I'd like to explain how knowing what day of the week it is became so important to me, or rather, how it became something I knew, deep down, without thinking about it at all. I wish I had a story about how, when I was delivering newspapers, Monday's bag was always the lightest, and by Sunday, they were just so heavy, and all I could think about was getting to Monday when the load would be easy again.

No, I never delivered on Sundays, we didn't have a weekend edition. And every day weighed pretty much the same.

But in prison, Tuesday nights were soup night, when we would get bread and soup, which was frequently something edible, quite something to look forward to.

That's not true either. The only regularity in prison eating was counting on a meal's inevitable tastelessness.

I don't know. But today, a Wednesday, I made some oatmeal for breakfast, with lots of Brown Sugar Raisin Butter.

Then I remembered that I have to move on Friday.

And that I have a job.

That's when the phone rang.

"Curt, where the f**k are you? Your a** should be scrubbing pots in my sinks like two f**kin' hours ago!"

"Belle, it's Wednesday!"

We had a good laugh. She told me it was Tuesday, I apologized profusely. No harm no foul.

This isn't working.

Here's the truth:

I made this whole post up. I had nothing to say.

I guess I'm not much of a fiction writer.

Today, I went to work, I was on time.

It is a Tuesday.

I usually have to look at my watch to figure out what day it is.

Blah.

Blah, blah, blah.

Blah blah, blah.