So, as if life wasn’t complicated enough, we now have a whole extra day to deal with…
Today is Leap Day!
Say it again….
Makes you feel like…well, leaping.
But be careful not to turn an ankle.
Apparently this Leap Day is needed, every four years, or else the calendar gets all screwed up and we won’t know when to plant our vegetables or change our towels or something.
And for me, it pretty much means I have to come up with one additional entertaining theme before we can put these brrrrrrrrr and wary months behind us.
Kind of weird though, don’t you think?
No…I don’t mean my coming up with an entertaining theme, although that is always suspect.
What I mean is, just adding an extra day to the year…and nobody questions it…well, except me; but I question everything…or so I’m told.
Hey...if not me who?
See, another question.
For the most part people are just too busy with their day to day lives to question much of anything, unless it has something to do with their cable bill.
But what if we just added an hour to the day every so often…or take one away while we’re at it. What would we do then?
Oh wait…we do that too, every spring and fall.
Geez…can’t we get anything right?
Who’s in charge of this stuff?
So what happens to February 29th next year…and the year after that?
Where does it go?
What happens to all the people born on February 29th? Do they only exist in this limbo world of Leap Years, where one “Leap” year equals four regular years?
After one Leap year birthday are they really only four…or are they really sixteen real years, and only four leap years?
Kind of makes your head hurt.
Or maybe anything you do on February 29th only matters during a Leap Year. The rest of the time it doesn’t exist.
And by the time the next Leap Year rolls around again…you’ll probably have forgotten all about it.
This is probably why one of the legendary traditions that occur on Leap Day is that women are allowed to ask men to marry them.
Yep…get right up in the guy’s faces and pop the question.
There’s some tie in to St. Patrick and a deal he made with some Saint named Brigid, and all the snakes in Ireland, which aside from the obvious analogies, you just knew this had to have something to do with the Irish, of which I am half.
Leave it to the Irish to make a convoluted situation even more convulted-er.
I think the drinking of green beer is also involved, or if it’s not, it should be.
Now of course the ladies, forgettable Leap Day or not, are putting themselves out there with this so called tradition, because men being men, probably won’t be able to pay attention long enough to even understand what is being proposed to them, let alone notice who’s doing the proposing. This being the case, there are some safeguards built in to protect these brave women with a form of compensation.
Apparently, if the dumb Goober rejects the proposal, or sleeps through it, he must reward the spurned lady with a kiss and possibly a silk gown. So it’s not a total loss for the ladies…except maybe the kiss part.
It’s also traditional to placate the slighted damsel with a pair of gloves, supposedly to hide her ringless engagement finger from the inquiring world.
So be careful what you wish for ladies…unless you need a new pair of gloves.
Anyway, enjoy your Leap Day…it only comes twice a decade.
Ladies…the ball is in your court.
Men…the glove store is having a sale.
Personally, I keep a ready supply on hand, so to speak, since I regularly have to fend off these proposals three or four times a week, Leap Day or not.
Proposals...and woodpeckers that seem to be attracted to my head for some reason.
Not sure why…..