My Days Are Weeks

Every day I spend all of my time thinking, feeling and doing things. And all day while I'm thinking, feeling and doing I say to myself, "Self, when I get home I am going to write what I think, feel and do today on my blog." But when I get home I can never remember what it is I was thinking, feeling or doing during the day that I deemed noteworthy.
Because of this I am going to make a journal. And I will carry this journal with me all day so I can take notes on what I think, feel and do. When I get home I will write about it.

One thing I can remember thinking/ feeling is that time has been passing in an unusual way recently. It always seemed before that time passed a day at a time. Sure, I had to live in seconds, minutes and hours too. But every second that added up to a minute that added up to an hour ultimately added up to a day. And when that day was over we'd have the next day.
When the next day got here I'd be thinking, "Okay, this is what happened yesterday. Now to move on to today."
But not anymore. It seems like time is moving a week at a time, which I find to be somewhat alarming. When time moves in weeks it moves much faster. My seconds, minutes and hours have not been ultimately adding up to days. It just keeps on going until my days add up to weeks. I understand if this doesn't make sense to anyone else, but it makes sense to me.
When I get to work, let's say on a Tuesday, I can remember last Tuesday and the recent Tuesdays before it as if they were yesterday, the day before and so on. It's this routine thing. I walk in the door and notice there are boxes boxes everywhere everywhere.
They are in piles. I make a note to myself, "Today is Tuesday. It is Dan's day off." Dan is responsible for taking in stock, and when he is not there it is notable that all of the stock that comes in gets left in piles until someone who is not Dan comes along and puts everything where it is supposed to go.
And every Tuesday it seems like just yesterday I can remember walking through the door, out of the dark morning and into the harsh florescent lighting, to find stacks of boxes everywhere. And I remember the last time I maneuvered my way through the maze of box stacks and looked up at the hooks on the wall to decide where I wanted to hang my bag and sweater. This is every day. This is every day. This is every day. Every day.
But it's not every day. It is only every Tuesday.
Dan has every Thursday off too, but I come in much later in the day, so it's different.
Every Saturday Erin and I walk to work together because we both work lunch. I remember Saturday upon Saturday before that as if they were just yesterday and yesterday and yesterday.
Tomorrow is Friday. I know that Friday will seem like tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow (...creeps in this petty pace from day to day - jaja sorry).
Because of this strange phenomenon, August has become late October. It's practically November, and in less than two weeks' time it seems.
It certainly does seem that way.
And if August could so quickly become November, then what's to stop November from becoming next November in less than a month's time? And next thing you know my grand children will be graduating from high school and only a few short years have gone by.
Or what's to stop time from changing its pace yet again? What if we start moving in months? We'll go from First Friday to First Friday. That is another mark, by the way. At every First Friday I feel as if we just did this a few days ago.
I will retire soon and I haven't even started my career yet.
No bother though. I suppose this only means I will be an amazing pianist before long. And I'll eight beautiful children before you know it.
But that has to mean that my parents will be old soon and my grandparents will be gone.
No no. It will not do for time to continue on in this fashion.
Maybe today will happen in only a day, and not a week.
We'll have to see.
~Nadia