Life here is what some may term routine.
But then it isn’t really. Routine implies a regular rhythm like the ticking of a clock whereas time here is more like a smoothly flowing river.
We happily drift along with little or nothing to distinguish one day from the next. Not all days are the same by any means as things do happen, but little or nothing is planned. In times past, Sunday would be a religion day or Monday would be a back to work day but there is none of that now. The only thing to distinguish one day from the next is the little display on my watch which today says SAT. Grand. Today must be Saturday?
Now time is passing relatively slowly at the moment. I heard that my coffee shop is opening in a couple of weeks, but that couple seems to be a fixed period. It’s always a couple of weeks no matter how many times I sleep at night and wake in the morning.
But then there are The Drugs.
Every week I groan and take out the large paper sack and the tray an go about filling the little pill boxes – seven days, morning and evening for the two of us – twenty eight little boxes that have to be carefully filled. It always gives me sore knees as I spend a lot of the time hunting around the floor for one of the little buggers that has escaped. Why the fuck to they make pills circular? The fucking things can roll for miles and always seem to end up under something.
Anyway, this drugs routine defies all logic and enters the realms of relativity. It’s supposed to happen once a week when the boxes are all emptied but I seem to be doing it every second day. Explain that Einstein! I dole out the pills once in the morning and once at night. I’m not stupid enough to take two doses in one day [though sometimes I’m tempted just to see what would happen]. Why is Pill Box Time different from Normal Time? How come the weeks pass slowly when I’m waiting for the coffee shop but time flashes past in a blink for the pills?
It makes no sense.