While others rearrange their sock drawer of the internet -- reassuring themselves that they have "friends" on social media and thereby finding context and meaning -- I am grateful to the same internet for its reliability when it comes to what day of the week it is. Literally.
Today, a small compendium at the bottom corner right of this screen confirms this as Feb. 19, 2019 -- a Tuesday. I suppose it could be "fake news," but it is as close to reassurance as I can find after having lost another day and time. It is an old habit -- trying to be on the same page with others in this day and time. Old habits die hard.
My problem of late is taking a late afternoon siesta (circa 4 p.m.), waking at around 9 ... and being marrow-deep convinced that this is nine in the morning, and I probably have missed some doctor's appointment or other engagement. Then I find it is actually night and things need to be revised.
So much for the vagaries and vagueness of advancing age. When I ask myself why I should fret about what time or time of day it might be, I find no satisfactory answer. But that answer remains unsatisfactory. So I segue into a morning routine -- reading news wires, snipping out bits and pieces of interest, ingesting a roll and a bit of juice, and trying to otherwise reset the clock.
If today were not Tuesday, would it matter?
If today were Tuesday, would it matter?
If it didn't matter, would it matter?
If it did matter, would it matter?
Age ... would it matter if it stopped insisting that did/didn't matter?
Somehow I feel as floppy and flappy as a sea turtle on a Galapagos beach.
Today, a small compendium at the bottom corner right of this screen confirms this as Feb. 19, 2019 -- a Tuesday. I suppose it could be "fake news," but it is as close to reassurance as I can find after having lost another day and time. It is an old habit -- trying to be on the same page with others in this day and time. Old habits die hard.
My problem of late is taking a late afternoon siesta (circa 4 p.m.), waking at around 9 ... and being marrow-deep convinced that this is nine in the morning, and I probably have missed some doctor's appointment or other engagement. Then I find it is actually night and things need to be revised.
So much for the vagaries and vagueness of advancing age. When I ask myself why I should fret about what time or time of day it might be, I find no satisfactory answer. But that answer remains unsatisfactory. So I segue into a morning routine -- reading news wires, snipping out bits and pieces of interest, ingesting a roll and a bit of juice, and trying to otherwise reset the clock.
If today were not Tuesday, would it matter?
If today were Tuesday, would it matter?
If it didn't matter, would it matter?
If it did matter, would it matter?
Age ... would it matter if it stopped insisting that did/didn't matter?
Somehow I feel as floppy and flappy as a sea turtle on a Galapagos beach.
Steady, old boy.
ReplyDeleteYour instincts are working well.
If you’re ever hospitalized, one of the first things you’ll likely be tested for is “orientation to person, place and time.”
“Sir what’s your name?”
“Sir, do you know where you are?”
“Sir, do you know what day it is?”
The evaluating MD may even ask some basic social questions like “Who is the president?”
Then “Sir, do you know why you’re here?”
If you’re lucky, they’ll enter the following in your chart, “A&Ox4,” Patient is alert and oriented to person, place, time and situation.”
As for “Fake News,” you should consider watching something other than Cable News before napping.