NOT A PROPER CALENDAR!!

Calendars. My requirements:  it must be large, clever, colourful, stylish…  The free one from the local real estate office (while offering a plethora of picturesque homes) just isn’t going to cut it hanging on my kitchen wall.  Chagall, Vintage Vogue, Edward Gorey… now THOSE are calendars.  

I found one on sale at Chapters after New Years that would serve my purpose – interesting B&W shots of Paris from the turn of the century to the 70s. Done.  And it wasn’t $20.

Then, I got it home.

Turns out this calendar starts its week on Monday.  Okay, what the fuck?  NO.  Unacceptable.  When you look at a regular calendar, you know which box is which.  I can tell you that Thursday is THIS box, just by looking at it.  But on a calendar where they have decided that the week begins on Monday – I’m screwed.

I’m sorry we missed your wedding, you see we thought Saturday was Sunday.

Dentist on Wednesday?  Nope, sorry you must mean Tuesday.

No, I didn’t start my period on MONDAY!!!  I started it on SUNDAY – but if I put it where Sunday is now, I’ll think I started on SATURDAY!!! I need to circle the right freaking START day you calendar-fucking fuckers!!!  (Apologies.  It’s day 2.)

Is this a generational thing? A hipster thing?  Should I be wearing enormous black-rimmed glasses with skinny jeans to decipher this?

There is a case to be made that the work week starts on Monday and then you get to the weekend and the partying begins and all is well in the world. It’s a great THEORY.  My brain just can’t get its synapses around that concept when I LOOK at a freaking calendar!!  I need to do be able to extrapolate immediately, I can’t count back one – I’ve got enough shit to shovel on a weekly basis without second guessing if I’m in the right place at the right time. 

The calendar search begins once more…