Top O' the Hour T'ya

Spring, summer, autumn and winter each have six letters, which is why it's confusing how people say fall. Or change it to fallow. With each season (another six-letter-er) containing six letters, that leaves two letters for each month, yet we usually abbreviate them with three letters apiece. At the rate we're going, the calendar will never switch over to the metric system. But time never tried to go that direction - 12 hours, 12 months, 3, 6, 9 on the clock's axes (axii?)... I mention all of this because yesterday was 73 days away from Christmas. Exactly one-fifth of a year, which has no designation. Ten and a half weeks isn't even 100% accurate.

I still wonder why I wonder whether time was discovered or invented. Fortunately, I no longer debate my debating over it.

At least fourteen of the next fifty hours will be spent in a minivan with my wife, three hyperactive boys, and enough styrofoam peanuts to make sure none of us shift in any transitions. Wish me luck.

Wait. No. Scrap that. Don't wish me luck. Send me cash instead. I'll make my own luck. Specifically, I'll be lucky to have rich, generous friends.