It turns out that I am from the future.

We had been making plans for ages that we were going to sail out to Middle Bass Island, me and my sister, where my folks' longtime friends the Rotheys (Scott and Martie) have some sort of house, cottage or domicile, and the folks were going to take a ferry up (they not relishing the idea of sailing six hours) and we were all going to have a nice jolly time of it. THAT WAS THE PLAN. Myfanwi was going to fly into Cleveland Hopkins on Thurs., at 7:30.

"So, ya gonna be there to pick me up? ... I'll be there at 7:30 ... " And I'm all like "7:30? Jeez, I don't know... by the time I get off work .... jeez I don't know ..." I mean, I gotta work, if I'm taking Friday off. So she's saying all this noise like "what, I got ta sit around Cleveland doing nothing? Sheee-oot! Why don't you just leave work early... Shit!..."

So I'm all "Jeez, look, I'll be there when I get there" (an answer that, all things considered, didn't really seem to suit Myfanwi, if her audible "Snoot!" was anything to go by) but then I proceeded to bust my ass! I worked like ten demons to get all my shit taken care of at work! I'm telling you, I was like some kind of goddam machine! I would be there- waiting for her- if it was the last thing i ever did!

So- all my job-related-tasks all well in hand, I went 'round to the folks to get my car. "got to drive up there RIGHT now!" I says, "can't let our little princess wait...", unnecessarily sarcastically. My Dad looked at me with that querulous, bemused expression that he often has when he has no idea what the hell nonsense it is I'm talking about. "'Our little princess'?" It's true I've never referred to my sister in such terms before. "Well" I say, to change the subject, "so, when are you driving up? Tomorrow?"

Sadly, this befuddles poor old Pops even more. "Driving up? Up to where?" He really seems to have no idea, poor guy. I sigh, and patiently remind him that we are all going up to meet the Rothey's. "What? Are you taking a whole week off?" he replies, exasperatingly. How can he be so out of touch! I mean, seriously! "No, Dad... We've had this planned for ages... Go up to the Rothey's... you remember..." I don't even know what to say...

"What? Up to the Rothey's? No..." he tells me, "No, I think that's planned for next week."

I didn't believe him at first of course, but all the ancillary evidence comes thudding home! Like when I spoke to Rapid, saying how it was now almost three weeks since the C.X.L. had settled, but I still hadn't got a check and Rapid was all "Three weeks? Hmm, I thought it was only two?" And like when I called Scott Rothey to confirm our plans, and told him that the weather forecast didn't look so good for next weekend, and Scott was all "Oh, okay, hmm.. okay", as though he was too polite too suggest that next weekend's forecast was rather irrelevant to our plans for the weekend after?

It was difficult to believe at first, of course, but now I clearly see that lately I have been living in the future. One week in the future, to be exact. Either that, or I'm some damn kind of moron.

There is no other explanation that makes any sense.

I don't regret being from the future, but I can't help but think that it would have been nice if I could have thought about writing down next week's winning Lottery number.