It is going on nine o’clock. I’ve only been here two hours. The traditional eight hour work day must be stopped. We are supposed to get eight hours of sleep but I only can get seven. Should we be expected to work longer than we can sleep?

A pleasant haze of confusion has settled over my sense of time and place. A weekend has ended and I have gone to work. I immediately think of what will be happening at the office, per the Monday schedule. But wait! Something is amiss. People who shouldn’t be here are here. Are they in the wrong place or am I? It turns out we both are, in a cognitive rather than physical way. The calendar says it is Tuesday, but our minds are on Monday. My heart says it should be any day but a work day, Monday or not.