Journal Entry, no Illustrations

Monday, June 15, 2015
I woke up at 5 o’clock, which is remarkable.  Can’t remember when I’ve slept through without waking at 2 or 3.  But yes, I didn’t have any hot water bottle – which I usually fill around 4 am to help get back to sleep, so yes, I evidently slept right through.    That doesn't even happen once a year, and it felt good.
Got up and went out to turn off  security but evidently I’d forgotten to turn it on Sunday night, must have been pretty tired, that happens lately.  Checked the doors, all locked so that was good.  Checked the decoy wallet in the utility room where that burglar used to go.  $5 bill still in it but the 20 is gone.  No panic, it might have been anyone, might well have been myself in a hurry out the door, given what my memory is these days.
The morning paper wasn’t in the box—evidently a substitute carrier, looked a bit in the bushes.  Must have already taken it in.  Checked discarded newspapers in the bedroom but they all were from Sunday so I hadn't read it yet.  Checked out in the office, all the way back to the bedroom, couldn't find it.
Hip hurt a lot so I took a hot bath, read in the tub, took morning pills, healthy breakfast (egg, toast, pear, oj), back in bed with no paper so clicked on TV, but the news channels evidently repeat the previous night’s news that early in the morning.
Then I began to feel seriously disoriented and finally it struck me – as you’ve probably wondered -- that it just might still be Sunday evening.  Most uncomfortable sensation.  No use checking watches or the bedroom clock, surfed the news channels but none happened to be showing the time. 
Finally I thought of the computer and came out to the office.  Pulled up a clock and there it was in black and white – well, grey and blue on a sort of off-white.  Yes.  The screen said  6:30 PM. 
That's POST MERIDIEN (MEREDIAN?) – anyhow, still Sunday evening.  

Here’s the worst part:  it was hard to accept.  Even when things started getting dark outside I hardly  felt oriented. Altogether upsetting experience. 

 

Don’t anyone bother to tell me it could happen to anyone.  The only redeeming aspect is that it’s always interesting to have a first -- there aren't many new happenings left after more than 89 years.

p. s.  Just after I posted this, received an email from a woman who asks if I'll be home if she comes over tomorrow to discuss selling my (remaindered) little book at the national Austen conference.  I started to reply I'd be home all day Monday, thought twice, had to study the calendar and check again with the computer.  Today is definitely Monday.  It is Monday now. She'll be over tomorrow.  That will be Tuesday.
Got that? 
I'm outa here.  Going to Trader Joe's to buy frozen onion soup.  I've been meaning to tell you -- their frozen onion soup is terrific.  A bit salty for a heart patient, but so is everything else.  It's great onion soup.