As I emerged from the train, I heard a man and woman in front of me discussing their day--what they had done, what they would pick up for dinner, other standard couple stuff. And then they began to discuss what day it was, he insisting it was Saturday, she not so sure. And as if to confirm that I was not, in fact, imagining the whole thing, the woman turned to me and asked, "Can you tell me, what day is it?" As my working assorted days requires me to keep track of days (I suppose there are other good reasons too), I said simply "It's Sunday," and they and I went on our merry ways.
I kept thinking about them--about how amusing it was that they weren't
sure, and yet, how freeing that must be. After all, there are times when
it shouldn't really matter what day it is--when we are simply enjoying
life in the moment, rather than worrying about our obligations for that
When I was working in soaps, the relative regularity of the Monday through Friday
schedule left me generally aware of the day. There were were producers
with whom I worked who kept track not just of the current real-time day, but of
the fictional days as well. Not only could they grasp the multiple days
of material that we were shooting that day and on the others surrounding
it, they could also keep in their heads the days not even written yet
that had been discussed in a story meeting, the days being worked on in
pre-production, and the days that would be on the air in the current
week. It was astounding.
Yet, as I think about the couple from the subway, I am reminded that
sometimes, it's not so terrible to go through a day just enjoying it,
without worrying about where it fits into a week or a month or a year.
Because some days, it matters. But many, many days, life can be good, no
matter what day it is.