In the truck on my way to work from afternoon Necromunda (huzzah for Dave being on Spring break) I was talking about how I’d had my current bed “for ten years. Yeah, since grade 9.” Whereupon it was pointed out that ten years ago I was actually in grade 12.
The problem is I still feel it’s 2004.
When I see books at work labelled with a 2006 or 2007 there’s a part of my brain that realizes it’s not 2004 but I can feel it having to rationalize it every time with thoughts like “Wow that was fast” as if those years had just begun and I could be excused for finding them new and exciting.
I don’t know how to solve this. Maybe I need to leave the country again for a calendar year or two. At least that might imprint 2008 on my brain so I’m stuck a little closer to the present.
