Years of Sundays

I hear that there used to be a saying, a month of Sundays. That must have been back when the days of the week were different, now they’re all Sundays I guess. Well I suppose that would be impossible, but since we don’t make any distinctions between the days of the week, every day might as well be a Sunday.

I remember when I was little we had days of the week still, but they were finally considered redundant since they didn’t affect anything anymore. I was old enough at the time that I knew what the days of the week were, but I was young enough I couldn’t tell them in order. I have forgotten them now, it was unnecessary knowledge.

I never really thought about any of this, I mean sat down and truly considered this state of affairs, until I met the man in the top hat. I think it was his top hat that first drew my attention to him; actually I know that’s what it was. No one ever wears a top hat anymore; I don’t think I’ve ever seen a real one in my life, except that one of course. I had been sitting on a bench in the park and he sat down next to me, I looked over at him, and then looked again when his odd appearance registered. He finally seemed to notice my gaze because he turned to look at me in turn.

“Do you have the time?’ I asked, to hide my confusion. The man nodded and pulled out a large old fashioned pocket watch. I was quickly coming to the conclusion that I was seated next to a mad man.

“It is three until two,” the man said, snapping the pocket watch shut again.

“That’s an interesting watch,” I said, unable to think of anything else to say. I wondered if it would be rude of me to just stand up and leave.

“I’m rather old fashioned in my tastes,” the man admitted. “That watch is just an example. So is there somewhere you need to go on this fine Wednesday afternoon?”

“Wednesday?” I asked.

“Oh, sorry, another example of my old fashioned behavior. I just can’t seem to stop thinking of days by their name, even though I know they are all the same anyway.” You would think, or at least I would have thought, that anyone this old fashioned would be old, at least old enough to be my grandfather. This wasn’t the case; I calculate the man in the top hat was about my age, maybe even a little younger.

“Is there any reason for this old fashioned tendency?” I asked, to make conversation. I was starting to get genuinely curious, and I didn’t have anywhere I needed to go, despite my previous enquiry for the time. I only work from nine to one every day and that’s my only commitment.

“It’s just so interesting,” the man explained. “Things have changed so much, and in such a short amount of time. Did you know that even so short a time as when our parents were children the average adult worked thirty to forty hours a week. Can you imagine? Think how much things have changed. I suppose my interest causes me to dress like this, and sometimes use outdated words. If I use one just ask.”

“So you actually keep track of the days of the week?” I asked. “How, they don’t sell calendars with the days of the week anymore do they?”

“They do, though they don’t sell them in normal stores. There are people who still like this sort of thing, it isn’t just me. Some people know that there is a market for calendars of the old fashioned sort and they make them, and people like me buy them.”

To be continued...