So far this week I’ve thought that:
a) Sunday was Monday (I have to think this is very typical for immigrants to Israel who are used to starting their weeks on Monday)
b) Monday was Sunday
c) Tuesday was Wednesday
d) Wednesday was…some other day, but not Wednesday
e) all of the above
I started having this problem while still in the U.S., because all at once the kids were done with camp (and therefore having any kind of schedule), Taxman was done with work, and our lift was gone. (Then we went on vacation for a week.) I was down to one pan to cook in and my sole remaining knife broke, so I barely cooked. I stopped baking challah, and we ate our Shabbat meals at friends’ houses.
So the rhythm of life was on pause. It still is, which partially explains my befuddled state.* We’re crashing with relatives; our things are still at the port; our apartment isn’t ours until
Monday Sunday. I keep holding out for September first, when we should finally have everything we’ve purchased, some order in our place, and school begins.
In the meantime: don’t ask me what day it is. I haven’t a clue.
* The rest can be blamed on the heat. Iced coffee drinks, while extremely helpful for morale, can only solve so much. Especially because they’re decaf.