Spacin’ out in outer space

DAY 1

Dear Diary: I can’t believe how excited I am to be this excited. I feel like I’m floating on air... which I am. Imagine, the first astronaut to go solo in outer space for an entire year! I know I’ll miss my friends, my wife, my kids and, needless to say, Netflix. I hope my yearly subscription doesn’t expire in a year. Wait a minute - oh-oh.

DAY 2

Dear Diary: What a day it’s been. Or at least I think it’s been. A day, I mean. It’s hard to tell when one day ends and another begins, what with no sunrise and all. But nothing much celestial to report - other than a couple of shooting comets, a meteorite or two, and maybe a dwarf star ending its cycle and imploding on itself. I mean, nothing meaningful - like if the Sox won.

DAY 3

Dear Diary: The capsule is making those clanking noises my old Plymouth used to make, the third rocket engine is squealing, and the chrome red paint job with the flames and little hearts is peeling. If only Joe the astro-chanic were here. But it’ll take forever to make an appointment to bring this in - although my annual 800,000-mile check-up is around the corner. If there only was a corner.

DAY 4

Dear Diary: Right! Amazon says they deliver anywhere. Well, Mr. `We’ll get it there anywhere, anytime’ - I’ve got news for you. I’m still waiting for my double-extra warm pair of lined mittens. And don’t give me that excuse of there was nowhere to park.

DAY 5

Dear Diary: Major custodial problem in the capsule, will need to consult central command about possible alternatives and solutions, pending appropriate overriding systems and operations according to proper procedures. Referencing the current dilemma that must be thoroughly analyzed and a professional solution that must be found is as follows: Run out of quarters for the washing machine. And my other spacesuit is in the dry cleaners.

DAY 17

Dear Diary: I think I missed a few days of writing here. I must have slept in for, oh, 13 days or so. I must have really been zonked out because I heard there was a major solar burst, and a couple of space particles caused minimal damage to the capsule’s hood ornament. Will have to get in touch with insurance when I get back.

DAY 42

Dear Diary: Completely lost track of time, dimensions, and my senses. My fingers have turned into a purple octopus, the rotor blades are a variation of vanilla fudge, and my mind is out for a drive.

DAY 364

Dear Diary: Can hardly wait to get back to earth tomorrow after an entire year. I’m sure things will be normal.

DAY 365

Dear Diary: Just had a good look around earth. I’m heading back to space.

Stuart Green is a freelance columnist. He can be reached at sagreen115@aolcom.