Deja vu

I came home from a long train ride to a city about 40 miles away where I work on Wednesdays. It's the only day where I come home at my son's bedtime, and he and I can't play video games for the night. He's still a young boy, so every time I explain to him that he has to go directly to bed when I get home on Wednesdays, he gets a bit huffy. Yesterday was no different: I told him we had to sleep and he got miffed, but at that moment, I had a sudden and strange feeling that I had done exactly this just the day before. Of course it had been an entire week since, but at that moment, it felt like a simple 24 hours.

I used to keep a feature on this blog called "Daily Life," which detailed in boring list format the day that I had just lived as a married man. Eventually, I recognized that my Then and Now posts were more than enough to show that routine boredom that I and millions of other married schlubs slog through every day, and that the Daily Life posts were just cluttering things up. But the point remains solid: married life is mostly a series of the same list of required chores and activities that seldom deviates from the established script of wake up, go to work, go home, chores, family time and sleep.

Yesterday's deja vu was simply a reminder of how inconsequential most of my married life is. So little of import had happened between yesterday and the Wednesday before that an entire week had slipped by before I realized I was still alive.