Country Mouse Monday: wait, what day is it?

My husband will confirm that the most common question I ask lately is, What day is it?

There used to be this sharp distinction between weekdays (dread, woe, misery) and weekends (relief, freedom, jubilation), but not so much anymore.

Every day now is awesome.

Every day is mine.

At some point I'll probably stop talking about how great this is, but sorry, that time hasn't come yet. If you're not in the mood for more of my glee-filled this-is-so-awesome squee, then I suggest you change the channel pronto.

Because I'm not done singing this song yet.

I may not be done ever. This really is that great.

Only one problem: once I took my life back and every day became just as filled with potential for creativity and self-expression as only the weekends once were, well, I got a little lost. And at the same time, instead of a predictable Monday through Friday, be at this address at 9 and stay there until 5, now there were clients to see, deadlines to meet, in a much more fluid manner.

Naturally, at that particular point in this new life of mine, I went out and bought a paper calendar.

I know, right? So retrograde, so old-school: an actual physical monthly agenda that I could hole-punch and stick in my take-everywhere Levenger notebook. My phone is never far from my hands, but paper is what I needed to be able to really map this new kind of time unfolding ahead of me, this vast open savanna.

The calendar is my compass.

And really, it's the only way I can remember that today is Monday. When I started Country Mouse Monday, it was my way of celebrating all of the beauty I had observed on our little farm over the weekend prior, all the fun I'd had making and doing, a way of sliding into the workweek (dread, woe, misery) buoyed by all the simple joy of the weekend remembered. Those weekends kept me going, glorious bright-spot of every dim week. The prospect of each week's Country Mouse Monday kept me focused, through the lows, eye always on the farm, heeding its call.

And now? Well, now that old weekend feeling is blended into every single day of the week. 

Who knew that every time I stood and stared and took all those damn pictures of bees and poppies, that really I was taking one more step along this particular path, the one that delivering me all the way to this new freedom? People thought I was just a bit besotted, and I was, uploading endless photos to Instagram, always with the breathless "and then this!"

That besottedness is key. 

It's the key to being as happy as you can be, to living your own big life. And to losing track of what day it is, because every day, Wednesday or Saturday, is just as glorious as the last.

So here again, sharing with you what I didn't realize was the gateway for me, the single unwavering point that brought it all, everything I ever wanted, into focus.

Forget what day it is. Find your pollen, little bee. And roll. ;>