Concept of time

I have none. No concept of time, whatsoever.

And, for someone that used to live every day by a calendar and the clock, it's a little unnerving. And, strangely enough, a little liberating.

Okay, the term 'liberating' might be a bit much, but its definitely very different.

I know when its dark outside I try and get our Little Man to sleep right after a feeding, and there is no guilt associated with going back to bed.

During the day when most of society is busy being productive, at the very least, awake, I feel a little guilty. I should be sweeping my floors, folding our Little Man's laundry that I repeatedly toss in his crib, or making myself look half-way presentable to the outside world -in case we have visitors.

Depending on the night we had has a lot to do with how much I get done the following day. Sometimes I actually make dinner, much to Justin's surprise, and other days I hardly make it downstairs.

Either way, I've just found it interesting how I rarely know what day of the week it is, let alone the date. I'm assuming, by the increasing amount of holiday music I'm hearing on the radio, Christmas is sometime this week.

I should probably look into that.