Blursday

Blah-day, Blues-day or Blurs-day? Get your colors crystal clear at the Bass Museum.

Thursday – bit of a blursday

"Yeah, it's been a long day." Pausing, he looked up at the desert moon. "Say, what day is it, anyway?" / "Blursday, my friend, Every day is Blursday."

Sometimes his mother [who has depression] doesn't make it out of bed at all – or doesn't make it back from the night before till two days later – […] So when she fails to come home one evening, it's not a huge surprise. But once ‘Whensday’ becomes ‘Blursday’ and Blursday becomes ‘Lieday’, things start to get desperate. Stomachs are complaining, cockroaches are crawling around the kitchen, and the teachers are beginning to comment on Laurence’s propensity to fall asleep at his desk[…].

Without some self-imposed structure, it’s easy to feel a little untethered. A friend recently posted on Facebook: “For those who have lost track, today is Blursday the fortyteenth of Maprilay.”

2020 summarized: waking up on Blursday and occasionally interacting with other people by shouting "You're on mute!" That is my most frequently used sentence by far this year.

It was an ingenious idea—your own, in fact—to celebrate Sweet Blursday in the classic fashion. Alone at home, sans pants, but connected to nearest and dearest via group video chat.

“Monday,” ”Tuesday,” and ”Wednesday” have all become "Blursday." This new word highlights how central altered experiences and conceptions of time were to experiences of the pandemic – and to the way we live our lives and order our societies more generally.

Thirty years ago, if I told my grandma that the previous week had been full of blursdays (busy days that ran into each other) she would also have looked at me blankly as the term had not yet been coined.