Coming soon: an extra day
Today should be the end of the month, except for a bit of mathematical magic. Like most of my class, I mastered a long poem that helped to recall the number of days associated with each month. Eleven of them are predictable, but February is special.
I sort of understand the rationale for one extra day every four years; a corrective measure for a calendar that doesn’t fit properly. Call tomorrow a shim. And if you want to delve deeper into the calculations required, look here.
In real life, the extra day doesn’t do much damage. Unless it’s your birthday. Anyhow, the banks do manage to deposit cheques on time, and if you have to work, you may score one extra shift. Not enough to make you rich, but why quibble. After all, as with most bumps in our routine, we’ll get past this and then March will begin. One day, every four years, doesn’t hold a virtual candle to that other hiccup, where the clock jumps forward and falls back (twice per year). I’ve already mentioned my disdain for that game.
So, tomorrow I’ll let the dog out, figure what my breakfast should be, check for storms (last evening never really stormed, despite the ominous bulletins) and carry on with my life. The jump forward is about a week away, and that will be much more difficult for my goal of getting a complete night of rest. The dog…
Had one of those Eureka moments while binge watching TV. One of the lead actors seemed strangely familiar. Turns out that his father is Forrest Gump!
