Hey everyone, Summer here.

And welcome to... well, I'm not entirely sure what day this is, honestly. Monday? I think it's Monday. Between Christmas and New Year's, so it could be any day. Time has lost all meaning. We've entered the void.

If you're listening to this right now, you're probably in the same strange liminal space I am—that weird week between Christmas and New Year's where nobody knows what day it is, pants are optional, and breakfast might be leftover pie at 2 PM.

Welcome to the week that doesn't exist.

Let's talk about it. Because honestly, this might be my favorite week of the entire year.

Okay, so here's what happened to me yesterday. Or maybe it was two days ago. Time is a flat circle right now, so I genuinely don't know.

I woke up, looked at my phone to check what day it was, saw "Monday, December 29th" and my brain just... rejected that information. Monday doesn't mean anything this week. December 29th is a fake date. These are placeholder numbers the calendar is using until real time starts again on January 1st.

I've been wearing the same sweatpants for three days. I had cookies for breakfast. I started watching a movie at what I thought was early afternoon and when it ended it was dark outside. I have no idea if I have plans tomorrow because tomorrow isn't real yet.

And here's the beautiful thing: this is completely normal. We're all experiencing this together.

The week between Christmas and New Year's exists in this strange temporal bubble where normal rules don't apply. Work emails go unanswered because nobody's really working—they're just occasionally checking their inbox between naps and leftover turkey sandwiches. Productivity is a myth. Ambition is suspended. The entire world has collectively agreed to just... exist for a minute.

It's like we've all been given permission to stop. And we don't get that permission very often.

Most of the year, we're running. Chasing deadlines, meeting obligations, staying busy, being productive, hustling, grinding, optimizing every moment. Even our rest is productive—we're supposed to rest efficiently so we can work better tomorrow.

But this week? This weird, timeless, in-between week? Nobody expects anything from you. Your boss isn't expecting productivity. Your friends aren't expecting you to have your life together. Society has collectively shrugged and said "eh, it's that weird week, nobody really exists right now."

And I think that's kind of magical.

I started calling this week "the void" a few years ago, and the name stuck. Because that's what it feels like—you've fallen into a void between two years, floating in this space where past and future both feel distant and the only thing that exists is right now.

And being in the void is actually... really nice?

Think about it. When was the last time you had days where you genuinely didn't have to be anywhere or do anything? Where you could wake up without an alarm, eat whenever you felt like it, wear whatever's comfortable, do whatever sounds appealing in the moment?

For most of us, this happens maybe once or twice a year. And this week is one of those times.

So here's what I'm doing with my void week, and I want to give you permission to do the same:

Absolutely nothing productive.

I'm not setting goals. I'm not making plans. I'm not using this time to "get ahead" or "prepare for the new year" or "organize my life." That stuff can wait until January 2nd. Right now, I'm in the void, and the void demands nothing.

I'm eating leftovers at weird times. Christmas cookies for breakfast? Sure. Turkey sandwich at 10 PM? Why not. That cheese ball nobody touched on Christmas Eve? It's mine now. Normal meal schedules don't exist in the void.

I'm rewatching movies I've seen a hundred times. Not new movies that require attention and emotional investment. Comfort movies. The ones that feel like a warm blanket. The ones I can half-watch while scrolling my phone or staring into space.

I'm napping. Oh my god, the napping. Afternoon naps that turn into accidental three-hour sleeps. Falling asleep on the couch at 8 PM and waking up at 11 PM confused about what year it is. The void loves naps.

I'm wearing the same comfortable clothes until they become part of my body. These sweatpants and I are one now. We've merged. Fashion is a construct that doesn't exist in the void.

I'm letting my brain wander. No podcasts trying to teach me things. No productive reading. No self-improvement content. Just... letting my mind drift wherever it wants to go. Thinking about nothing. Thinking about everything. Thinking about that embarrassing thing I said in seventh grade for no reason.

The void doesn't judge.

Here's what's interesting about the void, though. Even though we're not actively trying to reflect or plan or prepare, something happens in this in-between space.

When you stop moving, when you stop filling every moment with noise and activity, when you just... exist for a while... things bubble up.

Thoughts about the year that just happened. Feelings you've been too busy to feel. Realizations about what you actually want versus what you think you're supposed to want. Ideas that have been trying to get your attention but couldn't compete with the constant noise of normal life.

The void is quiet enough to hear yourself think.

And I'm not saying you have to do anything with those thoughts. This isn't about forced reflection or mandatory year-end review. But if things come up naturally—let them. Notice them. See what your brain wants to tell you when you give it some silence.

For me, this void week, I've been noticing:

I'm tired. Like, really tired. The kind of tired that isn't fixed by one good night's sleep. The kind that comes from a whole year of going and going and going. And the void is showing me that maybe I need to build more nothing-time into my regular life, not just wait for this one week a year.

I've also been noticing what I miss from this year and what I don't miss. The people I want to see more of. The projects that lit me up versus the obligations that drained me. The moments that felt alive versus the time I spent just going through motions.

And I'm noticing what I'm excited about for next year. Not resolutions. Not goals. Just... things that make me feel a little spark when I think about them. That's data. That's my brain telling me what matters.

But again—you don't have to do anything with any of this. The void doesn't require productivity. If all you do this week is exist in sweatpants eating cheese and watching TV, that's perfect. You're doing the void correctly.

So here's my invitation for the rest of this strange, timeless week:

Embrace the void. Lean into the weirdness. Stop trying to know what day it is. Let time be meaningless. Exist without purpose or productivity.

Eat the leftovers at inappropriate times.

Wear the comfortable clothes until they become part of you.

Nap without apology.

Watch the comfort content.

Let your brain wander.

And if thoughts or feelings or realizations come up naturally—notice them, honor them, but don't feel like you have to do anything about them right now.

January will come. Real time will resume. The world will start demanding things from you again. Calendars will matter. Productivity will return. You'll have to wear real pants.

But not yet. Not this week.

This week, you're in the void. And the void is a gift. It's permission to stop. To rest. To exist without justification. To not know what day it is and not care.

So wher...