Oh my,...it's Wednesday. I had thought it was Monday. This being unstuck in time is becoming consistent. If it weren't so much trouble I'd go to the clinic about it. However there's always the danger of the institutional tripwire of protocol.
I could end up in the Nut Haus again.
Not that I minded that much. It was much like my digs. One can sleep watch TV draw, ...with crayons, or read. Mostly religious tracts or week old newspapers.
Most of the other inmates are too drugged to bother one. Still no thanks. Though I like the slippers they give you. I still have a pair from the last time I said the wrong thing.
Very comfy. Still I imagine being adrift in temporal realms might get me attentions I don't need.
So I just told you.
We're comrades so I figured you'd understand. Really though I could swear it's Monday,...certainly feels like one.
5 comments:
Um... Do you think it would help to put a calendar out somewhere in sight? For myself, I would find that preferable to programming some gizmo to tell me the day.
On the other hand, maybe time isn’t all that important. Zaphod Beeblebrox said it’s bunk.
Z
Ah yes "Beeblebrox".
I recall his poetry well.
"Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturations are to me,(with big yawning)
As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
On a lurgid bee,
That mordiously hath blurted out,
Its earted jurtles, grumbling."
He or it was amongst the finest, and certainly most damp of Vogon poets.
Also I now have bookmarked a "day of the week" site.
It seems as one becomes older assists are needed.
I tossed in a calculator page as well as I'm also now having difficulties counting.
Good idea.
Z.B. was not a vogon. He was the larcenous two-headed President of the Galaxy, who stole the fabulous spaceship Heart of Gold. His crimes are many, but vogon poetry is not among them, praise be to Zarquon the Prophet.
Z
My mistake,...subspace interference with the galactic library. In fact I requested an R. Crumb compendium, and got a catholic catechism.
Interesting reading none the less.
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