Each day tumbles into the next without demarcations. There is no more on-Mondays-I-do-this, and on-Tuesdays-I-go-here. Each day is generic. My weekly pill container tells me what day it is; my morning paper verifies. As I write, it is Sunday. No church. No Sunday brunch. No golf. We all miss the comings and goings of our … Continue reading Week Four: In the Midst of the Fog