Is anyone keeping up with what day it is? By rights, today should be a Monday but instead it is a Friday and even worse than that it doesn't feel like either a Monday or a Friday. I am aware that this does leave me open to the charge of being mentally ill but i shall endeavour to explain.
New Year's Eve, which was on the Wednesday, felt like a Saturday because everyone went out to the pub and got pissed. New Years Day, officially a Thursday, felt like a Sunday because i could remember very little about the previous night's events and awoke to find myself lying on a floor, which i failed utterly to recognise. In my experience nothing screams "Sunday!" quite as loudly as finding a strange hand cupping one's most intimate area. The hand in question felt larger than my own (well you have to check for lumps, you know) and on closer inspection appeared to belong to something resembling a traumatised walrus.
"I must not drink again", i remember thinking to myself as i sprinted, at no little speed, from the domain of the slumbering, and i use this word in its most elastic sense, woman.
Anyway the upshot of all this is that i feel as though i have stepped, through no fault of my own, into a puddle of muddle right up to my middle. In short, i am most discombobulated.
Yes, i suppose i could just cast a roving eye toward my brand new 2009 charity calendar featuring, as it does, 12 of Romania's most photogenic malnourished orphans but, to be brutally honest, it only makes me feel sad - wondering whether young January will actually live to see in February. Nevertheless, this does not change the situation that some days just have a certain feel, a definitive ambience about them. Fact. And today does not feel like a Friday.
Sort it out quicksmart, Pope Gregorys XIIIs.
I shall now bid you good afternoon as i fear i can make out the unmistakable weighty slap of flipper on asphalt.
'Eight Days A Week' - The Beatles
