"Oh Manchester, so much to answer for"

A recent number of elongated holiday weekends and truncated -- yet mind-achingly busy -- work weeks meant that when I woke up today, I had absolutely no clue as to the day.
Wednesday?
Friday?
Surely not Saturday!
I finally had to study the front page of the newspaper to find the answer. It's Thursday.
Faced with such confusion, I decided to turn to the comfortably familiar while walking on the treadmill this morning.
I listened to The Smiths.
The first song I heard on the playlist, "The Hand That Rocks the Cradle," is a tune I have heard over and over again for more than two decades:
"And I'll love you 'til the day I die/There never need by longing in your eyes/As long as the hand that rocks the cradle is mine."
The music that we love can do wonders for us, including provide an anchor of stability during times of senselessness. Even if the senselessness only extends to a lack of calendar awareness.