What Day is This?

OK, it has happened.

I seem to have finally succumbed to the "what day is it" syndrome experienced by those who work 6 and then 7 days weekly. As I gained consciousness in the dark this morning I began working out the plans for the day - but it was for a Thursday - making to-do lists for errands to run after work, and it wasn't until the IV of coffee hit the blood stream that I became aware that yesterday was Sunday...Oh!

Usually at my best in the morning, the brain gears up while brushing teeth and today was no exception. Well, you can imagine my surprise when, after performing the mental acrobatics, I booted up and found the Monday edition of the Gray Lady in my inbox. Oh!

The good news is I would have arrived at the correct place of employment. The not-so good news is I had no time to get another to-do list ready for today. Bother.

Hey, when you work these kinds of hours advanced planning is not only your friend, it's the greatest part of your survival strategy. No fear, I made up for it by getting the grocery shopping done after work this evening, so all was not lost.

The initial confusion left me befuddled. I mean, I know people who've arrived at work on the wrong day, and they are much younger. Should I take that as a positive sign?

When I began this rigorous work regimen 7 months ago, it became clear that I would depend on the old daily planner to be where I was supposed to be and do what needed doing on the correct day, at the correct time and place. Problem is, checking the planner is not the first item on my gay agenda when waking from a not-so-successful beauty sleep.

Back to the drawing board. Where is Wiley Coyote when you need him.

On a scale from 1 to 10 - today was a complete waste of makeup. If I wore makeup.

Time for a festive cocktail and supper.

And so it goes.
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