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What Day Is It and What Day Is It Supposed To Be?

Posted by James M. Helms on June 24, 2007

Every day has run into one long series of events. I am numb to any form of existent life beyond my present reality. I wake up each day with crumbs from a late night snack imprinted into the side of my face and a little white dog trying to get at the last of them. I wonder why I only have one shoe on and how I could sleep with the text book under my lower back. Where the hell am I, and what does my phone calendar tell me to do next?, I wonder. A strange woman is sleeping next to me that I slowly remember to be my wife, how long has it been since I seen her last…does she remember me? I stumble out of the bedroom and find two kids looking at me as if they know me, “Good morning Daddy”, they say. “Oh shit, did I miss my class?” I ask, the boy giggles and the little girl, with her hand on her hip, says “Daddy, that is a bad woed, and I am going to tell mom”. “Go ahead and tell her” I say, “you women are all the same, nothing but attitude and mouth, what is a ‘woed’ anyway?” “Daddy! quit teasin on my ‘Aws'” she quickly retorts. I rack my mind trying to determine what day it is, is this Wednesday or a Thursday? Then it dawns on me “Seth, why are you not at school? “Daddy, its Saturday, I don’t have school on Saturday” Oh shoot, I somehow forgot about school on Friday, where have I been?


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