Whoa, what happened to yesterday? Like a hole was punched into my calendar.
On one side of the hole it was Thursday. My youngest son missed swimming lessons because of a cold, so I made him play violent video games as soon as he got home, hoping that would sweat out the virus. I picked up my other son from school later in the afternoon, stopped by Trader Joe's to pick up some horse meat for dinner, and dropped off a couple of overdue library mugs on my way home. I remember my neighbor knocking on the door as I cooked dinner. He said he was expecting a package the next day and wondered if I would mind signing for it. He wouldn't tell me what it was, but it would be big, ominously big.
I wished my neighbor happy new year, closed the door, then turned around to find the wall clock scolding my younger son. That's when I realized it was no longer Thursday and I was standing on the other side of a 24 hour wide hole. I walked over to the rim and tried to peer into the center, but all I could make out was a faint image of Charlie Rose interviewing Steve Martin.
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