Piper tells me I should go out this weekend.
It’s one-thirty in the morning.
“What’s the point?” I say “It’s already Sunday.”
“Nuh uh.” she says.
I check my clock. It’s Saturday. A miracle. I gained a day. Why was the post-office closed? Did my letters get picked up? Am I going to get the benefits? Am I going to have to look for jobs? Will that be my job, for a hundred and ninety two dollars a week?
“I know what I will do.” I say “There is a literary event at the library. I thought it was today, which is technically yesterday, but it turns out that it is tomorrow, which is technically today.”
“I forget how far ahead you are.” she says.