8 am. I am still cocooned under the covers, checking Twitter. Sunlight is pouring through the garden doors, bejewelling the banks of snow on the deck. As remarkable as the picture is, I would appreciate it more were it not the end of March. My sensible ego is telling me to get up, get on with the day; there's lots to do. Weekends evaporate.
Wait a minute--it's Friday, not Saturday. One of my gifts to my "retired" self is a day at home to work other projects.
Later, I am enjoying banana muffins and tea with Elmer and a friend. They talk music, as usual, and cars, and family. Careless of the clock, I relish the conversation. Elmer mentions playing at a dance tomorrow night. What? A dance on Sunday night?
Wait a minute--it's Friday, not Saturday. This is my long weekend.
During the afternoon, I park myself at my desk to finish a section in my current project. To stretch my legs, I head to the piano to prepare tomorrow's liturgy. One part of my brain is thinking about choir practice tomorrow--should be getting that ready.
Wait a minute--it's Friday, not Saturday. I can practice tomorrow as well, even if I am doing two liturgies this weekend.
All through the afternoon, I indulge my ADD. I walk downtown for exercise and an errand, Google sites for inspiration for a costume party, rummage through my old clothes for possibilities, play a little piano, search for a music book I've put at such a good place I can't find it, chat with my daughter, laugh about our own private "normal." Guilt attempts to invade my consciousness--not so much work on the project today as I had planned. Music will usurp most of tomorrow.
Wait a minute--it's only Friday, not Saturday. I have gained a whole day.
Fridays regularly confuse me like this now. All through the day, a sense of urgency drifts over me like wisps of fog during an early morning drive, clouding my way, then lifting suddenly to clear the view, the result of a lifetime of clock-watching.
I'm getting used to my free Fridays. They may lead to confusion for a while, but it's the good kind.