The Universe is giving you a free day, what are you going to do with it?
I think it’s an intergalactic tragedy that we don’t celebrate Leap Day with more reverence. Leap Day lingers in the “Arbor Day” class of holidays… even though it’s not technically a holiday. Thanks to the cosmically fuzzy orbital process, a full trip around the sun takes 365 days, 5 hours and 49 minutes. So every four years we fudge the numbers a bit and synthesize an extra day on the calendar. No matter what system of belief you follow, this is a clear and objective sign from the universe to “have one on me”.
So why argue with a universal decree? Shouldn’t ski areas be open dusk till dawn? Shouldn’t your office close and government services run an minimum power, forcing you to buy cat food and toilet paper from the gas station? Shouldn’t we be allowed to sit home in our underwear watching Beastmaster if we so choose?
And if we’re going to take the liberty of tacking on an extra day, why not mess with the numbers a bit more and make 366 days a standard year and shrink one of those haughty 31-day months down to 30 every four years? This way we can have an even number of days in a week, which means three days of work and three days off. That would give you 183 weekend days versus the current paltry 104. Think about it, that’s 79 extra days of time to do whatever you please. It’s the 24 hour work week! And by the way, in February’s defense, it’s the month that comes closest to the 27.32 days it takes to complete a lunar cycle. If the other months followed February’s lead, we’d have 13 months of 28 days or so, meaning we get to add another Zodiac sign. My vote is for the constellation Puppis, which is the sign of the poop deck. “I’m an Aries but my wife is a Poop Deck.”
But unless Superman perfunctorily slows the Earth’s rotation or the sun goes prematurely supernova, we’re stuck with Leap Day, the Gregorian band-aid of days. So when next we come this way in 2016, make a point of planning something really fun, stocking up on cat food and forgetting all your worries for 23 hours and 56 minutes (a standard earth day). You owe it to cosmos to get in a few more turns, snowshoe a new trail or built a two-headed snowman because hey, you don’t want to seem ungrateful to the universe.
