I remember when I use to count the days till the weekend and I always knew what day of the week I was on. Some days I'm totally lost and the only thing that offers a save is if it's Monday night or Tuesday morning or Thursday night or Friday morning. That's the garbage days. We put those tall flip top bright blue garbage containers out on Monday night so it nudges my memory of the day and then Thursday night rolls around and the gray flip top recycle containers are put to the curb. It's just those days in the middle of the week that confuse me.
I might need to find a part time job as soon as my heel is repaired. Maybe just schedule some work for Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. That would leave me with a long weekend and every weekend off. Thursday would then be my "anticipation Friday". I could handle this I think.
I'm ploughing along here and getting those things done that I've slacked on for the past year. Those things like pantries, closets and cupboards. I'll be so organized by the time of my surgery although I might not be able to get to or into those closets it will be done.
More coffee, a hot shower to loosen up the joints and I'll be ready to attack the day. One other thing. I remember when I couldn't mention the word "joint" without having a moment of salivation. Ah the good ole days.