Day after day, I am waking up with the feeling that the day will be special. The day to savor and remember. The day. The same happened this morning. Ever since I woke up, I feel elated. Thrilled by what is about to happen, I merrily go about my daily chores. But the mystery is still behind the corner. What in the world could be so special about this particular day, or any other day for that matter? Will it disappoint me once again by the evening? But the best I can do is to turn everything around and accept each and every day as it is. Just as it is, it is the day to savor and remember. The day. Who needs mysteries, anyway? The day is special because it is today. Forever the day. The one and only. Every other day is either just a fading memory or a pipedream. And these are nothing if not mysteries hardly worth my trouble. Is this what Horace had in mind when he advised us all to seize the day once and for all?