Since it’s February 29 and I don’t much care for leap years, it’s the ideal time to propose a fix for the oft inconsistent Gregorian calendar.
For starters, leap years ruin the simple symmetry of figuring out the day when your next year’s birthday’s going to fall (one day later or two?). Also, I’m not crazy about the whole ‘Thirty days hath September…’ mode of keeping track of the months.
If it were up to me, I’d steal one day each from December and January, make those 30-day months and add the remainder to February, so that it, too, would have 30 days. Then even those deemed not ‘smarter than a fifth grader’ could confidently recite the length of each month.
Sure, we’d have to get used to Christmas coming six days before New Year’s. And some people’s birthdays would suddenly disappear. (If that’s you, I apologize in advance.) Of course, there would be no major celebrities born on February 30th for at least 20 years.
But so what? I think all these obstacles could easily be overcome in favour of a greater scheduling consistency.
There you have it. I now leave it up to the astronomers and PDA programmers to sort out the details.
I went to the dentist last week for the ritual quarterly cleaning (don’t ask). And I have to say that I always come away from there feeling a little blue.
It’s not because of the threat of pain, lying in the prone position with the TV volume just a shade too low to hear over the whirring machine, or having a hygienist chip away at my teeth for what seems like an eternity.
No. It’s because no matter what I do to take care of my molars, the dental establishment always wants MORE.
Case in point: I have learned how to brush, rinse and floss over the course of many years of oral hygiene. And these are rituals I practice on a quotidian basis. Yet each time I visit the dentist, they tell me: I could be doing a better job; I’m not doing it right; I should be brushing without toothpaste first; I should brush in a circular motion (versus up and down); I should … The litany is endless.
Dental professionals, believe me when I say I’m listening to you and I’m trying. I really am.
Just once, I’d like you to ‘build me up buttercup’; but you, as the song says, just ‘let me down’.
How about a little positive reinforcement for a change?
And while I’m on the subject, why do they continue to give me a regular toothbrush when they keep trying to get me to use an electric? Just asking.