A Calendrical Meditation

I either need a new wall calendar or a new apartment.

See, every year I get a wall calendar so I know more or less what month it is and which days people’s birthdays are on, so that I can think about getting them a card or shooting them an email and then ignoring the urge and feeling minorly guilty about it. This measure of time usually has some ridiculously beautiful and colorful pictures of exotic locales like the Greek Isles or of phenomenal natural phenomena such as clouds.

The walls of my bathroom are white. A disgusting vanilla, actually. I really don’t want to know what went on in that bathroom before it was industrially blast-painted prior to my arrival. (Probably someone was murdered, and that’s why red drips appear on the wall from time to time in heavy condensation. Which is often, since the room doesn’t boast a fan.)

The point is, the calendar I bought this year is a gorgeous eco-art calendar—circles in the sand (word, Belinda Carlisle), stone stacks, artfully arranged leaves—that is completely underwhelming when placed on these vanilla walls. I can’t go through a whole year this way. Something’s got to give. Luckily, calendars are now at least 50% off at all major bookstores.

~ by JT on January 1, 2009.