Daylight Ravings

So that’s what grandma meant by stonato.

While the word officially means “out of tune” in Italian, stonato can also be used to describe someone who is bewildered, confused, or out of sorts.

That pretty much describes my condition last week when I lost an entire of hour of my life and still can’t account for it.

This chronological misfire occurred on Thursday when I got up to go to the gym.

I start work at 7:45AM, so I like to get to the gym at 6AM and work out for about an hour before bouncing home, knocking out a shower, and getting to work.

It can be a bit of close shave some mornings and I usually wolf down breakfast while banging out a story, but the arrangement has worked well for me.

Until Thursday.

Everything seemed normal at first, sort of. I did notice that there were a few more people in the gym than usual, but the place was still virtually empty, which is the way I like it.

After the workout, I skipped across Third Avenue to get a bottle of my favorite poison—Diet Coke—from a local 99 cent store.

I marveled at how bright the sky was compared with Tuesday morning, when it looked the sun was never going to rise.

“You’re a little late today, aren’t?” the owner said.

“Just a few minutes,” I assured him.

I walked down 71st Street, passing P.S. 102, and I saw there were kids and parents all over the place like it was the first day of school. Only this was October.

I made a mental note to walk on the opposite of the street in the future to avoid this crowd. But I was starting to feel a little queasy.

Mind Games

I stopped when I reached my front door and took out my phone to check the time and assure myself that everything was okay.

It was 8:23AM.

What the hell? It’s supposed to be 7:23AM. So strong was my denial that I was half-convinced my phone was wrong.

I dashed up the stairs to check the clock on my DVR—the undisputed authority on all things related to time—and, mamma mia!—I was nearly 40 minutes late for work.

The sun was brighter because it was later in the day. The school yard was crowded because kids were showing up for class.

And my buddy at the 99-cent store mentioned that I was late because…I was.

I quickly called my editor and apologized for my lateness. Fortunately for me, he’s a good dude and let me slide.

I have absolutely no idea how I got so messed up, but it was really disturbing. At my age, you do start to worry about losing your faculties.

I thought seriously about seeing a specialist to scan my brain, but two of my siblings assured me they had been in similar situations.

"It happens,” my brother told me.

However, things didn’t improve much today when I did my weekly grocery shopping.

I was at the checkout counter when I realized I had forgotten to pick up some chicken for tomorrow’s dinner, so I had to run like hell to the meat department and dash back to the cashier.

And when I got home I realized I had forgotten also to get carrots and Parmesan cheese.

Is there a brain surgeon in the house?

Okay, maybe I’m overreacting. I’m praying that these incidents are the results of fatigue, stress and inattentiveness.

Or, as grandma used to say, maybe I’m just stonato.