One morning, as I stepped out of the shower and reached for the last Q-tip in the small bowl, I instinctively opened the cabinet to replenish the container from the box of 500. Upon performing this routine action, I pondered my state of mind the last time I did this, roughly a month ago. I wondered how my life might change (or not) over the time until I would need to refill the bowl again.
Previously, while seeking a new job, I wondered if I would have one by the time the Q-tips were depleted. I never counted them, as equating Q-tips to days would be imprecise, although a handful of 35 might roughly equal a month. I use a single Q-tip after each shower, generally once daily, except when I exercise in the evening, making it a double Q-tip day. Occasionally, I might forget or use more than two, and trips further complicate the correlation between Q-tips and days.
In a world where days or months were undefined, a small bowl filled with Q-tips could be my "month." There are other unconventional ways to perceive time, such as the lunar calendar or the number of wooden coffee stirrers at my office (likely representing years). Another method could be the time taken for a specific task, like a predetermined walking route. My typical walk is 1.1 miles, taking around 18 minutes, which I call a lap, and I know it takes roughly 40 minutes to complete two laps.
When was the last time you forgot what day it was because you didn't need to know? Or what time it was? The latter is hopefully more common, occurring when engrossed in a good book or enjoying an activity. The former hasn't happened to me in years, as recent vacations have required me to stay engaged with work deliverables. I look forward to the next time I forget the day, as our culture bases everything on time. I have benefited from occasionally distancing myself from time while remembering its importance in maintaining societal balance.