What Time

Inspirational song: Roll With the Changes (REO Speedwagon)

Next in our continuing series of "time has no meaning..." 

I know it isn't just me. I know other people have been struggling with keeping track of time, but this is getting ridiculous. Not even my phone calendar is helping anymore. I can barely keep track of where I am. Forget when I am. I've had to completely restructure plans an awful lot lately (don't ask for how long, because obviously I don't know), when someone asks me if I am still doing a thing that starts within 24-36 hours of when they ask. Babysitting, doctor visits, meetings, parties, bills due dates. Doesn't matter. I have no idea what is going on around me. Nothing is working to keep track. The husband is no better. We are constantly reminding each other of commitments, only to forget an hour later and have to piece it all together again.

The scheduled event that we forgot at least six times in the last week was the new game night that our son-in-law is leading. The premise is a lot of fun, with people from different eras across Central Europe being suddenly whisked back to an area near Lake Geneva, in Roman times. This is the campaign where I am playing a character based on my own grandfather from 1974. The other two party members are a Spanish priest from 1565 and a French Art Nouveau painter from 1896. Both of them came from the region around Lyon, France, while my character fell through time while on a family vacation in Wengen, Switzerland. (Only based loosely on when he was in Europe visiting us, and taking liberties with what we were doing on that trip.) 

When we left off last time, we had only just met up and were struggling to introduce ourselves with our vastly different languages and customs. This time we managed to discover we can vaguely communicate through rudimentary Latin, which TR knows mostly through medical school, so very little is practical in conversation. He is finding it hardest to communicate, while the Spaniard and Frenchman can sort of work things out. He is letting a lot of details slide, when people don't really drill down on questioning. But with his fine clothes (we decided on blue plaid Sans-a-belt slacks, for one), glasses, knowledge of horses, and souvenir Swiss army knife, the 16th century priest thinks he's got to be an incredibly wealthy nobleman. I wonder whether he will find a way to work this to his advantage, or maybe in a moment of generosity, to the party's.