Getting WAY ahead of myself

Today, the coordinator at Lief's preschool wrote me an email: I had written his birthday down as 07/07/27.

To her that meant July 7, 2027. I can see how she has a point. And at the very very least I was out by 4 years (which I suppose is better than 24 years).

To be totally honest, I don't really know reliably what year it is any more; if someone told me it was 2008 or 2006 I would believe them. I could easily be out a year. I know it's March (in Calgary you can always tell because of the way the city starts to smell once it's melting), I know it's not yet the 16th, but other than that: WHO KNOWS?? I'll be able to tell once I post this because Blogger conveniently date-stamps these entries.

I think I'll just sit here and be peaceful in the knowledge that there are cookies in the jar, Italy in the future, and a hockey-game on TV. It doesn't matter what year it is.

Unless it's, like, 9595: if man is still alive, I would want to let Zager and Evans know.