In my efforts to get the taxes together–which I do not do well or happily but feel I’m not alone in that–and working on new writing projects, I’ve decided to write only one blog a week, my Tuesday blog.
I didn’t think I’d like blogging when I first started. The publicist at my publishing company requested I do that and I enjoy it During the time after George’s death when I didn’t feel a bit creative, writing, I found a short blog kept me writing. Also, I’ve been amazed at some of the topics I came upon and I really love it when someone comments.
Please keep up with me on Tuesdays!
There’s an old song with the title I Didn’t Know What Time It Was. That’s not my problem. I have clocks all over the place. But what day is it? I never know.
For example: My sister-in-law called yesterday and asked what I was going to blog about. Blog? I didn’t even realize today was Tuesday. It’s a problem I’m having more and more often.
Second: I had carefully written on my calendar that I was going to lunch with my good friends, the Jones at 11:00 on Friday. I was writing, finishing up a proposal for my agent and lost track of time when a call came from the complex office that my friends were here. I realize it doesn’t help to make a note if one doesn’t look at the calendar. Being a writer, I hadn’t even showered yet. I tossed on clothes, drew on eyebrows, and combed my hair which looked only slightly better than Edward Scissorhand’s. The Jones were lovely about it and we had a delicious lunch and good time.
Part of the problem is that I’m retired and the only days I have to remember are Sunday for church and any day with a doctor’s appointment. Not that I haven’t forgotten them as well. The other part is that I do not have a calendar in my head. I’ve really never known what day it was. I still have delivery of the newspaper because I want to support in-print papers but also because I can check it for the date. Oh, and I do read some of it. In mental hospitals, one way staff finds out if a patient is oriented in time is to ask them the date. I’d fail that every time, would probably never be released.
Before I retired, I had the framework of, well, work. It’s lovely to look ahead of days to write and hours to read and time to spend with friends–if I don’t forget.
Guess you’d call me chronologically challenged. Anyone else out there have the same problem? Please tell me. I’ll feel so much better.