only one day

For the past several months now, I've found that the distinction between weekdays and weekends has been slowly dissolving. No one day seems to be much different from any other; no matter what activities I fill it with, each day just seems to run into the next without anything too meaningful to say about it.

It never used to be that way for me. I used to wake up thinking about what was going to happen that day, and what was going to happen that week, and what I needed to get done, and how I was going to get everything else finished. I used to think a lot about the passage of time, and worry about it; worry about money, worry about time, worry about what challenge or obstacle was going to come up next.

This morning, I awoke from a restful sleep to a bright, sunny day. I'm aware of several chores and tasks that should be done today, and at least some of them will be finished before the day is over. B went to the hospital to round on her patients, and then she's going to a friend's house to use their sewing machine. So I'll be on my own for about another four or five hours, and I'll probably just do what I do on any normal day, with a few changes: instead of working on my regular day job stuff, I'll putter around the house working on my chores. And after awhile, B will be home, and then later, we'll have some friends over for a barbecue, and sometime after that, we'll go to bed.

and one moment just rolls on into the next