No, not the edible kind, this time. I inadvertently rearranged the calendar a little, some time in the last couple of weeks. Had I not discovered this in one of my more lucid moments, then tomorrow would have been the 1st of February.
This is nothing new here at Witch Towers. I used to keep track of Offspring’s doings, so one year I called to Son to check that he’d changed his calendar to July. No, he wouldn’t be doing that until the following day, as he had a day left in June. I pointed out that it was the 30th of June and it would be the 1st of July the next day.
No, it was going to be the 31st of June, and he could prove it. He could, actually. You’ll be pleased to hear that WH Smith were happy to reimburse the price of that calendar, even after six months of use.
I own a Joan Baez album with a track called 33rd of August, so I’m no stranger to strange dates.
None of my current calendars are wrong in that respect. I hope, because Daughter handmade them for me. But I have an even more handmade calendar, which is my plans for what to blog about for the next ten days, or thereabouts. I scribble it on the backs of Random’s press releases, as they come stapled together and when turned over make for a useful pad of A4 sheets on which to mastermind the blogging industry.
Except I was so intent on thinking ahead to February that I happened to give January 28 days while I was at it. Good thing I discovered this, as I was getting worried about not having read any of the new February books wriggling impatiently in my pile. So that’s all right. Three more reading days. I should be able to manage, well, one more book?