If someone asks me what day it is I now say that, “I think it’s Saturday.” I add “think” so they don’t put me away but inside myself, I truly believe in the Saturday-ness of it all right now.

My alarm-clock-wet-nose-cat routinely rubs his orifice into my face and I see that it’s 6:00 a.m. when I need to get up…wait, what’s the “need?” Bathroom time is still okay at my age. Whether it’s 8 or 9:00 a.m. doesn’t seem to matter much, unless I’m really tired and unable to fall asleep the night before.

My title doesn’t exist in the corporation who bought my corporation. Uniformity does make a business run more smoothly across state lines. “Who’s this guy with a title that doesn’t exist?” “I haven’t met him and never will but this is just weird.” Since they took over, “Catholic” and “compassionate” are posted everywhere I walked at work. I felt comforted that stability and strength would make us an even better facility.

It’s 10:00 a.m. now and I’ve already read the paper and caffeinated myself for a job I no longer have. My friends and two cats are comforting but the cats kinda stare at me wondering why I’m still here and it’s 10:00 a.m. I think of writing this now but then thought of doing it tomorrow. “What day is tomorrow?” I wondered and then quickly say to myself, “Why, it’s Saturday!” I’ll do it on Saturday.

One good friend offered counsel telling me that this is a “dry run” for what will last for me until death five years from now. The statement wasn’t that counseling but I was amused at having a test run for doing nothing a few years ahead of me.

True retirement must mean volunteering for a worthy cause or breakfast with like-minded friends lamenting over the destruction of the world while they are actually talking about their own destruction, as in death. (The world will continue on without you guys, trust me.)

Most of my immediate time is reflecting on what happened as though my thinking could change events. It happened. I’m here. What I need to do is to be “peaceful with myself” as my sister wished. I love the phrase because my head and sleepless nights are anything but. My task, during this temporary time, is to divide up the day so that something ends and something else begins. Otherwise, this super quiet day seems endless with a heart and mind dwelling on a place that no longer exists for me.

“Oh well, that’s their problem now,” I say to myself when I sufficiently solved all their upcoming problems with grace and diligence for twenty-two years. It’s only been two days but the shock is fully felt. I need to admit to myself that this is the beginning of something new and exciting.

That was another friend’s advise, “new and exciting.” I know that it’s Saturday but now I want to make it to Noon to decide what to do with my endless afternoon and a too-much-soul-searching evening.