It seems I’ve lost my ability read and comprehend a simple calendar.
I wrote last Friday about the sixth anniversary of quitting my job to write full time. I was wrong.
I left on August 31 and until yesterday afternoon I’d thought last Friday was August 31. Turns out I was a week early.
In retrospect last week may as well have been the anniversary. I recall not doing very much in my final days at the newspaper. Hit the final Monday deadline, of course, and wrote a final column in which I admitted my goal in life was to be completely useless, but that’s about it.
Oh, I’ve mixed up days before. Since I’ve been working at home I find I sometimes have to concentrate to sort out what day it is. Is it Tuesday? Saturday? What did we watch on TV last night?
Good thing I subscribe to a daily newspaper.
The Sweetest Story
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