That is never a good sound to hear when one is getting out of one's car at work at 7:30 a.m., especially when one's work is over a half hour from home and is on a college campus, and one's work day runs from 8 a.m. to 6:30 p.m. that particular day.
How in the hell did that happen, in just this way? It doesn't make sense, this rip. That is in the back of my skirt, near the kick-slit in the center back, and this is denim, not some mamby-pamby fabric. This is a long pencil skirt, and it's not even tight. Thankfully it could have been worse. It could have been an above-the-knee skirt, I suppose, and my nether regions could have been exposed to the world, and not just an extra flash of leg.
It's always something.
And speaking of It's Always Something, Terry brought to my attention the night before last that there were as of that day 100 more days left to the calendar year, and that therefore I (and Sandy) must be off on our counting of the days in the Blog 365 project, since that day we labeled our entries 264. Well. I laughed 'til I cried, because we all love that Terry and her anally wonderful ways, and I don't know how to refute it. I do remember one time when I repeated a number and someone brought it to my attention, so I fixed it. However, maybe there was another time that happened! There should really be 366 days this year, in fact, but we took leap day off, if you recall. Or did I actually do that? I can't remember if I was strong enough to actually not blog that day -- that was the "rule," but did I break it? I think I didn't, which is to say I didn't break the "rule," and I did not blog that day. I imagine I must have chewed off my right arm, but it seems to have grown back.
It would be easy enough (but tedious) to find out about the numbers, and/or also to find out if this is the 267th (really 268th because of the leap year complication) day of the year, but as I'm writing this, it's easier for me to just ruminate-type and wonder-type, since, you know, the typing comes so naturally to me, than it is to look it up. I am loath to go looking through all my entries this year (260-something of them!) to look, but if you are very bored and want to do it, be my guest, and report back to us your findings.
However, I can hardly stop laughing enough to clear my eyes to type this thing, and I am typing by feel (I'm good at that, right?) because Terry has got me going so far into hysterics. To think that we might actually get to December 31st, after having written every single solitary day for well over the 365 (because remember I "practiced" for a good two months before the actual start of the project), only to find that I had misnumbered all my entries? I can hardly stand it. I think I should have an eggnog right NOW, just in case. Make that a double.
Of course, in the end it doesn't matter what, or even whether, the posts are numbered -- just that we've blogged every day of the year. Claudia and Kay said at the beginning of the project that they thought I was crazy enough ("in a good way" to quote them both) to do this. It appears I am. But I've got company, and it's company that frankly (sorry, girls, to have doubted you) I didn't think would stick with it. It's my favorite hobby of all my many hobbies, so although I thought I might (and have) had days when I felt a little bit like I'd hit the wall, it's really natural and not hard for me. For others, that is not the case. I'm so proud of my compatriots for whom it's more of an effort.
Terry, I love you. More than you can imagine. Figure out those numbers, will ya? Or I might just pull random numbers out the air for the rest of the year just for the hell of it.