|09:55 pm - Time travel|
Christmas season is bad enough for scrambling the time sense. But having two days off smack in the middle of the week, which we haven't done in forever*, completely confuses my sense of what happened when. The weekend? The holiday? Or one of those unscheduled days off? Not helped by liberal doses of snow and ice, that reduce one's memory to indistinguishable episodes of Shovel and Slide.
* Every year since 2002 the two-day holiday has attached to a weekend or been prorogued to the following Monday or Tuesday, or both. Only exception was 2007 when Monday 24 was a half-day on holiday schedule and I didn't work. No wonder I'm adrift.
But cudgelling brains reveals that it was just last Friday that I went to the local coffee house for an at-long-last latte. Cafe has small book exchange, rarely disturbed, with several of my duplicate Pratchetts and someone else's Dick Francises. Picked up Proof, read sixty pages, found myself back in February 1994 in Tokyo. Good times, good times.
Am half-tempted to finish it with my at-home copy and half to keep on with the one there. This supposes my being able to get there at all in this end of week's forecast arctic temps.