The Epoch of Never Knowing What Day It Is

Parts of the Nevada landscape are so barren as to resemble the lunar surface. The mountains surround the city in a circle, creating a tidy crater of vice & virtue. Human beings suffer strange side effects from exposure to outer space. An ongoing side effect I’ve experienced since moving to Las Vegas is: never knowing what day it is. Like clockwork, when I worked at school, I knew the day, the date and the time of day to the minute. Future time unfolded in my mind’s eye as an ordered calendar, with free days highlighted, testing dates circled, birthdays sprinkled in, and the end of the school year engraved in copper. Time was my fine friend, always available. Fast-forward to the here and now, and virtually every day I have to ask someone what day it is, or confirm that the day I think it is, is indeed that day. Pathetic. Part of my daily routine is to walk at the local community center’s indoor track. It’s a familiar one carried over from my old life. My ritual companion is my pet purple iPod. Attached to my right hand, a plastic pitch-counter allows me to decisively click off laps. At this track 14 laps = one mile. Back home I walked 4 miles per day, but back home 8 laps equaled one mile, thus it was 32 laps and done. Here it’s a tedious 28 laps to log just 2 miles, and I loathe to push it to 56. Fit I ain’t, yet I am laughably competitive with my fellow rivals walkers. Pro tip: Never underestimate the power of muted hostility to keep things moving. Sometimes, when the crowded lanes are impeding my pace, I surprise everyone and break away into the running lane to pass the slowpokes and gain ground. Suckers!  CLICK. My bored brain harbors the farfetched notion that one day, out of the blue, the community center will feel the immediate need to blast music over the PA. In an inspiration, they will look to borrow mine. “You need my music? But of course!”. My splendid playlist will echo through the sound system, while (seen through the windows) the renowned Las Vegas strip will serve as a backdrop to my soundtrack. The superstar club DJs will feel the buzz, impressed with the tunes of the ambulating iPod lady. In the movie in my head I am crushing it at the walking track. Except for one problem. I need help to know what day it is so I can walk in the right direction.