Freakin Friday

It’s bad enough trying to keep track of the days of the week when you are retired. Not working gives a whole new perspective of the week. There is no longer a feel to any of the days.
My work week would begin on Sunday afternoons. We all got that Sunday Angst just thinking about Monday and the week that lies ahead. I wouldn’t call it depression, but it had a bummer feel to it all the same.

Of course, Monday came and brought with it a little taste of horror. I had to get into commuter mode and jump into my routine. Get up at 5:30, leave the house at 6:00, zip into the deli for a cup of coffee, race to the Speonk LIRR station, wait for the train, and climb on board, and disembark in Brooklyn in a little under two and a half hours after a relatively short subway ride.

It was exhausting.

But the day got underway, and by noon you couldn’t tell that you had been off the previous two days.

Tuesday was worse.

For some reason, when I got to Tuesday, it always made me feel that the week was long, that the road to Friday was inescapably fraught with delays and hazards, making the prospect of getting there more formidable than it appeared the day before.
Maybe I was just tired from Monday.

Wednesday came, and with it came a little bit of hope. People started to call Wednesday, Hump Day. This seemed a little too sexual in nature for me. It seems a bit ridiculous to me now, after all, who has sex on Wednesday?

Thursday was Super Day to me. It was almost better than Friday. It was my weekly Christmas Eve. You weren’t getting any presents, but it was all ok to have a dram or two of Holiday Cheer.

Friday was here at last, and everyone you met on the train had a smile, and everyone at work was a little less tense, and even a two-hour mid-morning meeting couldn’t dampen their spirits.

The day absolutely flew by, which, in a way, was a little sad. I always wanted to savor the feeling of Friday and make it last longer.
Even agnostics and atheists subscribed to TGIF.

But not I am retired.

But now we have Carona.

Both have conspired to remove all feelings and sensibilities about time and the days of the week.

Everyday is Sunday or Friday or Tuesday.

It doesn’t matter.

I get up. I make coffee. I catch up on the news. I read the paper. I do the crossword puzzle. I take a dip. I read my book. I drink lots of water. I have lunch. I set the table for dinner. I BBQ or Eileen and I will cook (well, Eileen really) something inside. We eat. I clear off the table. I load the dishwasher. I go into the den and watch Netflix, Prime, or YouTube. I go to bed.

I don’t mean to sound like I am complaining. I have no right to complain, considering what other people have endured and continue to suffer. My life has been impacted only in the loss of proximity to the people I love.

Flying up to NY to watch Opening Day with Sean was quickly scratched.

Then the trip up to NY to see all three of our children this summer was scratched too.

But when you see that our total of deaths due to Carona is approaching 102,000, these trivial inconveniences don’t deserve mentioning. Still, they are essential to me, and I imagine many of you share the same sentiments.

It isn’t a contest.

My pain is still my pain even though there are so many with more pain, life-altering pain.

I just deleted a few paragraphs that I wrote regarding current events.
I want to keep this observation a little more hopeful for a return to normal living.

I do have faith in science and medicine.

Nearly twenty years ago, I was diagnosed with leukemia.
That was a scary word to me, it still is, but here I am twenty years later.
So, medicine has been very good to me (if I may paraphrase Garret Morris on SNL).

Therefore, I believe medicine and pharmacology will once again come up with a treatment if not a cure.

In the meantime, I will have to adapt my daily feelings and get over it as has been suggested to me time and time again regarding a host of other vexing issues in my life.

We are well, and we are strong, and that is something I am not taking for granted.

My only prayer is that you are as well.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s