How to confuse the easily confused

Twice a year, I get really confused. Ok, maybe I’m easily confused a lot of the time, but I mean really confused.

My state of confusion got a double hit this year, a four day Easter weekend and daylight saving at the same time. So all day Friday I’m thinking it Saturday, such is my five day on, two day off routine. On Saturday I thought it was Sunday, and on Monday, well I was just confused.

Now normally this confusion is manageable. I didn’t go into work on the Sunday, although I thought I should have. It was the smaller things that got me. Trying to buy my Sunday papers on Saturday, feeling slightly aggrieved that they didn’t have any Sunday papers, only old Saturday ones, but then kicking my arse into action before I complained about the fact.

At the height of my illness induced boredom, apart from succeeding in breaking Blogger, I was looking at the tv guide, you guessed it, for the wrong day. This time last year, well into my six month holiday (I mean travelling experience) I could not tell which day it was, and to be honest, didn’t really care, yet now my five working day a week life can’t take a step outside of it’s routine without blowing up.

Then, on Sunday morning, without any notice at all, some bastard nicked a hour from all my clocks. You see in the good old days I wouldn’t have noticed, but now all my clocks automatically reduce themselves when the clocks go back. That is, apart from my mobile, which was telling me one thing, whilst the other six clocks were saying another thing. It’s been an emotionally tough week. First they take away my electricity for nine hours, then they start fiddling with my week and clock.

Which leads me onto my final point. If everyone out there was like me (which thankfully they are not), all the terrorists would have to do, to cause mayhem, would be to give me an extra day off, activate daylight time saving, without telling me, and the world would collapse.

Or maybe not/.