Kage Baker kept a calendar by her desk, not so much to check the date or track deadlines (that was one of my jobs) as to remind her what day of the week it was. When you no longer watch much television – and neither of us had in years – you tend to lose track of what day it is.
Really. It’s a phenomenon little recognized or acknowledged – how many people are there who don’t watch television, these days? But the fact of the matter is, you tend to get the middle of the week confused when you just don’t keep track of CSI or Dancing with the Stars or even Masterpiece Theatre anymore.
My sister Kimberly does watch television, and her household has a careful mosaic of shows they fit into the evening hours. But they also record the shows they can’t watch immediately, and so I can never track the days by whatever is on the telly at any given time. Is it live or is it stored? I can’t tell until someone starts racing through the commercials at light speed and I realize the show was recorded a week before. The fact that the remote has controls rejected by NASA as too complicated for astronauts doesn’t help, either.
My big problem today, though, appears to be narcolepsy; or maybe a tsetse fly invasion. I am exhausted all the time lately, anyway. Angioplasy, a wonky heart, Christmas leftovers, Fimbulwinter settling down over Southern California – who knows why? But I sleep 12 hours a day and tend to fall asleep somewhere in the afternoon as well. I didn’t make it out of bed today until sometime after noon, and had to be lured with bagels to achieve that.
That’s when I realized I didn’t know what day of the week it was. I looked at the calendar – Kage’s calendar, which I hung up by the desk when I set up here – and discovered it was still November on that wall. I asked Kimberly what was on the telly tonight and she said, Nothing, it had all been pre-empted by awards shows. So there went my last clue.
I’m going back to bed.
Tomorrow: meditations on the New Year