I just noticed today that although I wrote my first post on Ash Wednesday, I titled it "Because It's Tuesday." How completely out of it was I to think Ash Wednesday happened on Tuesday? I mean, hell, I waited two years to write anything at all and then I get all Lent-themed, and then I screw up the most basic aspect of that theme in my first post.
When I wrote that title, I had the Mickey Mouse Club song "Today Is Tuesday" going through my head. I'm too young for the original Mickey Mouse Club, but those of you who grew up in NoVA might remember it being shown in syndication on channel 5 for years. I used to watch it after school everyday. Annette! Bobby! Cubby and Karen! (Fun Fact: Cubby's Mother knitted a layette for C when she was born.)
Pretty soon I'm going to add some info to the About Me section. Pretty soon. Right now I'm dragging people I know over here, so I don't feel a need to explain who-what-where. I've spent a little time thinking about settings and layout and what-not. Allow comments or not? Use my real name? Use labels? Link to favorite sites? I did add Followers. Be one.*
I started typing a "let me know what you'd like to see" kind of sentiment, beloved readers, about what I should include, but hey! That's not in the spirit of blogging. This is mine. I can't do it by committee and if I want to say Wednesday is really Tuesday then I will motherfuckers.
*Please.
Let’s get the important stuff out of the way.
1 month ago
3 comments:
You are soooo bad. I love it. We all lose track of days. Heck, I lose track of whole weeks sometimes. Come to think of it. I'm not very good with time at all. Sometimes, I have no idea what month we're in, and more often, I couldn't tell you the year without thinking on it for about ten or fifteen seconds.
In fact, I don't keep time at all. My wife asks me what time someone came home or left, or what time arrived someplace, and I can never tell her because I don't think to mark the time. I'm content with such and such happened before or after something else.
Used to be, people would ask my age, and I couldn't reliably tell them. I would have to think about it, and invariably, I would give them an age that was as much as five years my younger. Occasionaly, I would try to do the math in my head: Let's see, I was born in 1966. What year is it now? Subtraction....Then, I would just estimate as best I could.
It's harder to forget my age, now, with everyone reminding me about how old I am.
I suppose there are some things one chooses to forget, decides not to track, would like to escape.
Wednesday is Tuesday as often as you want it to be. The rest can go hang. Motherfuckers, indeed.
I have a wallet. ;) Woops, that's for movie line day... (motherfuckers)
You made today the best Friday ever.
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