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Photo by Gail Harvey, no reproduction without permission

Dollar Store Daily Planner

It has always been my ritual to buy myself a Quo Vadis daily planner for each new year. Superstitious about the lay-out of said organizational tool, it seemed worth the extra coin. Investing in the future and all that, even if some months it ends up jammed in a drawer, replaced by notes to self on pieces of paper. This year, in the interest of not spending where it really isn't justified, I opted for a dollar-store daytimer. Sealed in plastic, it seemed a gamble and somehow I knew in my heart I would be rushing off to get a Quo Vadis planner anyway...except that the experience of this dollar-store daily planner has been too much fun so far. If omens are to be spotted in each and every instance of life, a practice guaranteed to drive a person insane on an average day, well then this little bargain might be packed with portent. I'm not sure what to make of said portent, but to wit, upon opening up said new planner, filled with hope and organizational zest, page one suggested that I write down my name and address and phone number. Logical should the bible of life be lost, right? I dutifully entered my name, number and address, mindful of the fact that the County would be THE best place to lose something, as one is guaranteed that some kind soul would return the lost item, concerned. Beneath the spaces for such helpful information, the daytimer, clearly printed in another era in a country far far away that had never heard of fraud and basic human corruption, suggested that I enter my credit card information and insurance policy number. Beneath this possibly-innocent request reads the following: "It would be grateful anyone who contact with above mentional address." I assume that I would be the "it" in question and that if anyone could even begin to determine what *this* request meant, they would contact me after using my credit card number for a vacation to Hawaii and a shopping spree at Walmart. "Found your daytimer," would come the kindly call from a tropical resort...
Upon flipping through the daytimer to write down important birthdays and other scheduled events, it became clear that there were two Tuesdays in several weeks of 2008, and that Wednesday had been re-named Wodnesday. There will also be days of the week with no name whatsoever, and days lacking a numeric assignment. The optimistic side of me surmises that such days are to be considered lucky, days on which I might disappear from the time-space continuum and simply relax, with nothing to do and nowhere to be. Intriguing indeed, but should I be on the telephone hurriedly arranging an appointment and not notice the typographical nightmare that is the new daytimer, some small amount of personal chaos could ensue. On the omen-scale, this is amusing and quietly alarming, and while I could easily march out and get myself the daytimer of my usual custom, I think I'm going to go with the rogue weirdness of the one that cost me 3 bucks and see what happens...
Listening to: Soul Finger, The Bar-Kays