So this calendar, right, is sitting on a table in my sister's house. And like a lot of other things she does, I can't explain this either. Doesn't it just remind you of the convicts of yore who scratched on the walls of their prison cells, with a jagged bit of stone, to figure out how much of life was passing them by, day by agonizing day? What? Only 14 years and 28 days more days to go before I can get out ? Yay me!
You'd think we kept her chained in the basement, or garage, and fed her out of a tin plate when she was a child, wouldn't you?
You know, it doesn't seem like such a bad idea, when I actually see those words out in the open like that.
Sigh. Too late now.