It’s
been a weird week. I’ve had some time off recently, which in turn
means making up my schedule as I go while catching up on needs
around the house. But more than that, I haven’t had many reasons
to check out the calendar. I don’t have to do anything at any
specific time, and I don’t have to be anywhere at any specific
time.
If
I outlined that situation to you, I’m guessing I would receive
unanimous nods of understanding that we’ve all encountered those
moments when we have no idea what day it is.
But
that isn’t really the case.
For
some reason, I spent all of Friday feeling like it was Saturday.
Hardly a unique feeling. I just said I know we’ve all felt that
way on occasion. In this case, however, I never thought it was
Saturday. Not once. I was always aware it was Friday. I just kept
hitting things, from mail delivery to picking up the remote, where
a thought went to Saturday. And this is where I need to take a
step away from the story for a moment to establish a thought.
Friend
of mine just bought a new car. Not a key-base ignition. It has
one of those push button starters.
He
claims that when he arrives at a destination and is shutting things
down before getting out, the strangest thing happens. The process
has become a habit for him now. He knows he needs to push the
button again and that there are no keys inserted into a place
on or near the steering column. He doesn’t reach for the keys.
Not even a twitch of the hand in that direction. He goes to the
button. But as he does, he always has a sensation run through
his head and arm that he should be reaching for the inside end
of the steering column, and a feeling as if he’s starting that
motion.
It’s
a phantom sensation. A result of decades of driving cars and drilling
a pattern into his head.
But
it’s not real.
Back
to Friday.
The
crazy, difficult to explain part of my feelings on Friday is what
we might match up as the push button end. In other words, like
my friend not reaching for the keys but having a sensation in
his head that he was, I fully knew it wasn’t Saturday and yet
kept having thoughts of things to do as if it was. In fact, on
a couple of occasions, I started thinking “well, I’ll just do
that tomorrow” but was placing in my thoughts onto Sunday’s schedule.
Imagine
your normal trash day is Monday, and that you put things out the
night before on Sunday. Now it’s Thursday, and you’ve been doing
everything that a Thursday involves from appointments and schedules
to television and relaxation. You know it’s Thursday. You’re doing
Thursday things. And yet you keep feeling the need to go take
out the trash.
I
have no idea why Friday was registering as Saturday, which in
turn was creating Sunday for me. Normally I would blame my schedule.
A run of days with no attachment to the calendar can mess things
up a bit. But that wasn’t it in this case.
I
finished my list of things to do, and I’m caught up on the recorded
shows from last night. Even called mom. The Friday to do list
is done. I just can’t shake this feeling I left the keys in the
car. I suppose I’ll check later when I bring out the trash.