I feel like that camel in the ad, running around asking, "What day is it?" There are no weekends on a farm and the days run together like water. I had it so firmly fixed in my mind that yesterday was Monday. I went shopping for groceries for next weekend (whenever that is), thinking it was early to buy vegetables but wanted to beat the rain that is predicted for, you guessed it, today.
The deal is this: Camille and I share a trash barrel, neither of us generating enough to fill a separate barrel and justify the bill. We put our stuff in on Tuesday and one of us hauls it across the road for Wednesday morning pick up. We even talked about it last night, for all the good that did. It wasn't until I was getting ready for bed that it struck like a bolt of lightning that yesterday was, in fact, Tuesday and I was a day late. Guess what I was doing in the dark this morning. Trash Guy makes his rounds early, early, early. Bessie Anne looked at me like I'd gone bonkers as I loaded her into the truck before 5 a.m. "Okay, if you say so, Mom, but you haven't even had your coffee yet." "Believe me, kid, I know that."
It was a good thing that reality struck when it did, and not just for the trash. Bess has an appointment at the vet's office today (Wednesday, as I keep reminding myself). It wouldn't do to be a day late for that. Now I just have to keep an eye on the clock.