We don't seem to have weekends much any more. One day tumbles into the next. The passing of time - always mysterious - merges with some giant shadow.
That old Friday evening feeling, with glorious anticipation of Saturday and Sunday indulgence, no longer holds the cachet of pre-Covid times.
What with lockdowns and shutdowns, there is for many too much enforced leisure. The world of work is suspended on a trip wire.
Aching for a return to the old normal, those of a certain routine can but wait. And wait.
Binging on Netflix is all very well. But the instinct to get to grips with real life cannot be thwarted.
The discipline of the old Monday to Friday grind had its compensations; it ensured an entitlement to some well-earned leisure at its end.
Saturday and Sunday downtime had familiarities depending on taste and habit. But for many, pivotal to the weekend was the consoling life-force which is sport in all its glorious forms.
At times we feel guilty we miss the elixir so much. In the background, daily tidings remind us there are more profound agonies about.
Glossed by the ritual of the latest figures, the trail of heartbreak left by this corona plague goes on and on.
Meanwhile, on the sporting front we seek solace from flashback features on television and in print.
Revisiting old rows and controversies that once filled the sports pages has its consolations. Such reminiscences try to fill a void. But all the while we ache for the vibrancy of real-time sport.
All over the world there are stop-go attempts to return to a kind of sporting normality. But when to allow teams once again battle on the playing field remains fraught with risk.
Medical experts repeatedly warn the virus can ensnare the most unlikely and unsuspecting victim.
What to do about a mass of spectators who wish to attend a sporting event remains the ultimate conundrum. What is termed 'playing behind closed doors' is the generally accepted interim solution.
Germany's top two football leagues get going again this weekend. But fans are not allowed enter any ground.
A lack of atmosphere, created by the wilful exclusion of fans with all their prejudices and passions, is something the sporting world has never experienced before.
This new normal has already provoked some unusual responses.
For example, there are reports the South Korean football league has arranged 'crowd noise' to be piped in to major grounds.
We are told that in desperation, Taiwan's baseball leagues have put cardboard spectators in the stands - and are charging fans to have their pictures placed on an icon of their choice.
On this side of the world, the zapping of the Premier League was a portent of things to come. The rhythms of the soccer season ended overnight.
We can but ponder what might have been for Liverpool, Manchester United, and those other dream teams branded in our consciousness.
As summer days set their own time log, GAA pitches - ranging from obscure roadside fields to stadiums with names embedded in the national vocabulary - lie forlorn.
There are of course rumblings all across the Irish sporting world.
Can some patchwork make-do plan get things up and running?
The instinct is to take a chance. But foreboding messages from the medics can thwart even the most hopeful prognosis.
All the while, our top-flight sporting stars languish in a limbo. They must remain primed to perform - but they know not when.
Sooner or later, some may have to accept there will be no theatre of the possible in 2020.
Meanwhile, as the stasis continues, the financial lifeblood of Irish sport is running dangerously low.
The domestic soccer league is especially hard hit. But those tracking the finances of more affluent codes, such as rugby, will also find themselves in unscheduled talks with their bank manager.
And so in Taiwan they have cardboard spectators. Why not? Almost anything is worth a try to get the games going again.