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...