Trust me, I am not complaining…just making an observation. When you move from the northern regions of the United States to South Florida you lose some sense of timing since there is no real spring or fall here. A major loss is that there is no noticeable thrill each year when the first few warm days come along after a bitter cold winter. Of course, what is not a loss is the bitter cold winter. Nonetheless, there are no crocus or daffodils popping up out of the flower beds announcing spring. Likewise, come autumn, there are no leaves to rake nor rush to switch from shorts to long pants. Nope, there are none of these telltale signs of seasons changing.
Hence, once you’ve been living in South Florida for a few years you lose your sense of annual timing. Trying to remember exactly when things took place in the past becomes a little blurry. Up north it is easier to remember when events took place because they have the added element of season attached to them.
Meanwhile, I’ve noticed that time confusion has gotten even worse after I retired. There is no alarm clock in my life anymore. This alone has to be the grand prize you are awarded upon retirement. But, as your days become less hectic and you have fewer things to do and people to see, you begin to lose your sense of week. It is not unusual for me to spend a long moment or two attempting to remember what day of the week it is. Weekends, too, get lost since they’re now no different from the weekdays.
Thank goodness we still have night and day and I still know which is which. I suppose that’s next to go given the fact I am sleeping less, awakening earlier and doing more things in the middle of the night…like writing this post at 2:30 in the morning. The only saving grace is that night is dark and day is light. When I can’t figure that out anymore I don’t suppose it will really matter. At that point I probably won’t have a sense of anything.