Day: "a period of twenty-four hours as a unit of time, reckoned from one midnight to the next, corresponding to a rotation of the earth on its axis." (Oxford American dictionary)
Or maybe Day: a period of time to be gotten through by using one's wits or a favorite drug, which is immediately followed by a similar period of time to be gotten through, followed by a similar period of time, ad infinitum.
Or perhaps, Day, a period of time preceded by yesterday and followed by tomorrow. Rinse, repeat.
I have not yet been tempted to stay in bed all day, surrounded by books and a laptop and a bag of potato chips, but if this goes on through the summer you will find me there. It's not the unchanging days that get to me, it's the unchanging lack of a reason to get up. What are the plans? Where is the driving need to complete a project? Why is my interesting life suddenly so boring?
When I was very young my mother taught me to greet each morning with this: "Today is a day the Lord hath made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." I still repeat that when I remember to do so, and it helps, though I don't believe God lifts his hand every morning and says, "I guess I'll give humans another 24-hours." But there's nothing wrong with rejoicing that the sun has risen again, and that I'm still healthy and glad to be alive. In fact that's a very right thing to do.
There are lots of ways to greet the unchanging days. Maya Angelou said, "This is a wonderful day. I've never seen this one before." That's a cheerful thought and when I'm not rejoicing I try to remember her words, which I hear as, "you've never seen this day before, so get your lazy ass up and make something of it."
So I will try. If you're looking for me you'll find me right here, caught between yesterday and tomorrow. Einstein said "Creativity is the residue of wasted time" and I've got plenty of that. You probably do too. Maybe together we can create a cure for ennui. Or the virus. Whichever comes first.
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