August 6th, 2015

youkai hakkai from kagenami

(no subject)

Perhaps it's the malaise of the crud, or the deleterious effects of liquid-filled lungs, but I've had the worst time keeping days and dates straight this week. Short weeks don't usually throw me this badly, but my conviction that Tuesday was Monday led to me billing for a shift I hadn't done (today's) while still thinking I'd failed to bill for another (yesterday's).

Tomorrow is Friday. That at least is certain.

And today is August sixth. Thirty years ago I was startled by a god-awful noise shrieking through an otherwise quiet Toronto (memory says it was Sunday, but in fact it was Tuesday; cannot explain why I wasn't at work, then.) It panicked me; I jumped on my bicycle and peddled to the family house to take refuge. (Memory says no one was home; can't think where my sister and brother might have got to.) It was of course air raid sirens, commemorating the 40th anniversary of Hiroshima; and I fancy unofficial, because they never sounded again.

(Fifteen years later, more happily, I was watching compilation tapes from my sister's trader in Japan, and skipping ahead to find the next Saiyuuki episode.)