Days like theseIn the world of dates, the 1st of Jan is a genuine superstar. Everyone loves it, they dream about it days in advance, they roll out the red carpet in anticipation, they put on their best and pop a bottle of the bubbly. They're in love with the idea of starting anew and saying to the old: "out, out, damned spot".
Which makes me feel sad for Dec 31st. Perhaps Dec 30th is even worse off - at least people look forward to the evening of the 31st. To people, they're stale reminders of the last 360-odd. People just want to get through them - ooh, I can't wait for the Eve's evening, they shriek. Wonder if people who are born on the 31st of Dec wish their parents had shown a better sense of timing and could've just waited another day before their eyes twinkled. Do they complain: why me, mom?
Anyway, with thoughts like these, I realise that with each passing 31st Dec, I become more and more like the orbit of Pluto, i.e. eccentric. Do I demand a Festivus for the rest of us (or the restive-us)? - I don't know. But here's me, biting into toast, thinking of poor ol' 31st Dec, as the weary day gives way to the dazzling youngster ahead who knows not what lies ahead. Thirtyfusst for the restofuss!