Last Saturday morning, around 10:00AM, my cell phone rang. Since it was the weekend, I didn’t see the need to set an alarm. I’d been up for around fifteen minutes, had gone to the bathroom, and was back in bed catching up on social media. It was a little strange that my phone would ring so early on a weekend morning, and I saw it was my Step-Mother. It’s never a good thing when your family calls you early in the morning.

And to me, 10:00AM on a Saturday morning IS early in the morning.

“Hello,” I answered half asleep, “What’s up?”

“Where’s the post this morning?” my Step-Mother asked, “It’s already past ten in the morning.”

“It’s Saturday morning,” I said, laughing, “I only post during the week.”

“It’s Saturday?” She paused and then laughed as well, because she had absolutely no idea it was the weekend when she called me. Oh, the life of a retired person.

I could hear her talking to my Dad in the background, and I heard her ask if he was aware it was the weekend. Apparently he didn’t know what day it was either. I don’t know who’s running the show over there, but they might need some intervention.

My Dad got on the phone as well.

“That’s why the Sunday paper is so important,” he said, “It’s too big to miss.”

We all laughed, had a lovely chat, and then got off the phone. I went back to bed.

I know many retired people who say they get their days mixed up. Because, everyday for them is Saturday, and for the most part, they get to do what they want to do.

How wonderful.

What a luxury.

I’m a little jealous!

At this point in my life, I have trouble processing what it would be like to not have a set schedule. I can’t relate to not knowing what day it is.

In the meantime, I’ll just laugh at my parents for getting their days mixed up, and hope that one day I have this same issue.

Find meaning each day,

Dara

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