India McGreevy has officially reached Thursday, one of the most stagnant days of the week. It's not a milestone like Wednesday and it doesn't have the promise of Friday. It's just there. To be gotten through. Slowly.
Like Arthur Dent, India McGreevy and her family never could get the hang of Thursdays. But unlike Arthur Dent, India doesn't have a Ford Prefect to take her away from it all (she would think that was supremely awesome, though). And so there's nothing to do but wake up and face it. Or, as is the case this morning for India, to not really wake up at all and mostly sleepwalk through it:
I've never poured orange juice on my cereal because I don't really drink orange juice. But about once a week (for serious) I pour a bowl of cereal and then put the cereal box into the refrigerator and the milk into the cupboard.
You know how it feels when you sleep poorly and then only wake up half way? It makes the day drag by exponentially slower, but in a way it can be pleasant. Like Novocaine, you know things are going on and you can sort of feel them, but there's a buffer between you and the unpleasantness. This can be great because:
1.) There is no pain you are receiving, like a distant ship's smoke on the horizon.
2.) People are only coming through in waves.
3.) Their lips move, but you can't hear what they're saying.
And so, in that fashion, you soldier out of your house to heroically meet the day.