Monday Or Is It Wednesday?
If you’re used to going to work every day and now you’re
working from home, do you lose track of what day it is?
I thought that the day I started writing this was a Tuesday. Turns out it was a Wednesday. I laughed at the jokes about losing track of the day of the week, thinking that only happens to other people, but now the joke is on me.
So why does this happen?
My observation (without any actual research, because I just don’t feel like it) is that we lose our usual daily and hourly cues.
Our normal work week pattern has a certain rhythm... work day start and end times, commute times, working out, chores, etc. Our work day might also have patterns, like scheduled meetings, project timelines, lunch.
Doing our job from home should have at least a few similar patterns, like meetings (virtual) and lunch.
The rhythm of the day, however, is different when your entire commute is from the kitchen to the den. No traffic, no passing scenery, no red lights. Instead of a few miles each way from home to work, it’s a few feet.
Monday blends into Tuesday, which morphs into, uhh, Wednesday? Friday? Saturday feels like Thursday, except you don’t have to connect to the office. During quarantine there is no Wednesday book club, Thursday happy hour, Monday two for one dumpling special, that band that plays every Friday.
On Friday, or was it Wednesday, I saw a news story about protests in Michigan and elsewhere; groups of people demanding the reopening of the country. They were ignoring social distancing and were not wearing masks. They were shouting about being denied their freedoms. They claimed loudly that they could make their own decisions. In my view, they were selfishly ignoring the fact that their behavior was endangering other people’s lives. If their own decisions included self quarantine, social distancing and the other choices that could stop the spread of COVID19, that would be great. But too many people weren’t giving a shit, so state governments had to step in.
Of course our ignorant ‘president’ encouraged the protests. I wish he would join them, in person, mask-less, shaking hands with each one.
I am very fortunate to still have my job. I also understand the frustration and fear of being out or work. I have been unemployed for long stretches at least three times in my life. But doesn’t bring unemployed for a bit longer best being dead?
So today, the day I’m finishing this post, is Saturday. I think. It looked just like Friday. Except I didn’t set the alarm. Instead of going to work (the guest room), I went to the hair salon (the kitchen) and my stylist (girlfriend) gave me a haircut. It was only the second time she ever cut someone’s hair. Not bad. Thank you YouTube.
So my plan was to post this on Tuesday. I planned to post a previously written one today, Saturday. Or is today Sunday?
Wait. I checked. Today is Monday. And I just now did 30 seconds of research on this confusion phenomenon... it’s called temporal disintegration. And that is our home school lesson for the day.
So off I go to the gym (a new exercise bike in my living room), then breakfast at a neighborhood restaurant (my kitchen), followed by a 20-second commute to the office (guest room). Have a great, uhhh, let me check, mmm, Monday.
I thought that the day I started writing this was a Tuesday. Turns out it was a Wednesday. I laughed at the jokes about losing track of the day of the week, thinking that only happens to other people, but now the joke is on me.
So why does this happen?
My observation (without any actual research, because I just don’t feel like it) is that we lose our usual daily and hourly cues.
Our normal work week pattern has a certain rhythm... work day start and end times, commute times, working out, chores, etc. Our work day might also have patterns, like scheduled meetings, project timelines, lunch.
Doing our job from home should have at least a few similar patterns, like meetings (virtual) and lunch.
The rhythm of the day, however, is different when your entire commute is from the kitchen to the den. No traffic, no passing scenery, no red lights. Instead of a few miles each way from home to work, it’s a few feet.
Monday blends into Tuesday, which morphs into, uhh, Wednesday? Friday? Saturday feels like Thursday, except you don’t have to connect to the office. During quarantine there is no Wednesday book club, Thursday happy hour, Monday two for one dumpling special, that band that plays every Friday.
On Friday, or was it Wednesday, I saw a news story about protests in Michigan and elsewhere; groups of people demanding the reopening of the country. They were ignoring social distancing and were not wearing masks. They were shouting about being denied their freedoms. They claimed loudly that they could make their own decisions. In my view, they were selfishly ignoring the fact that their behavior was endangering other people’s lives. If their own decisions included self quarantine, social distancing and the other choices that could stop the spread of COVID19, that would be great. But too many people weren’t giving a shit, so state governments had to step in.
Of course our ignorant ‘president’ encouraged the protests. I wish he would join them, in person, mask-less, shaking hands with each one.
I am very fortunate to still have my job. I also understand the frustration and fear of being out or work. I have been unemployed for long stretches at least three times in my life. But doesn’t bring unemployed for a bit longer best being dead?
So today, the day I’m finishing this post, is Saturday. I think. It looked just like Friday. Except I didn’t set the alarm. Instead of going to work (the guest room), I went to the hair salon (the kitchen) and my stylist (girlfriend) gave me a haircut. It was only the second time she ever cut someone’s hair. Not bad. Thank you YouTube.
So my plan was to post this on Tuesday. I planned to post a previously written one today, Saturday. Or is today Sunday?
Wait. I checked. Today is Monday. And I just now did 30 seconds of research on this confusion phenomenon... it’s called temporal disintegration. And that is our home school lesson for the day.
So off I go to the gym (a new exercise bike in my living room), then breakfast at a neighborhood restaurant (my kitchen), followed by a 20-second commute to the office (guest room). Have a great, uhhh, let me check, mmm, Monday.
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