IMG_3659 copyJanuary speaks the language of organisation. But it’s true, too, we cannot bear too much. Reality? Information? Surely that’s now something of a quiet joke when we are overflowing with information and various versions of reality. Perhaps. Was it our realities were localised – what we could see with our own eyes? And what we experienced with our ears and hands and hearts? I guess now it depends on where we are plugged in – the news feed we are wedded to or the site from which we absorb most of our information.

Hence the joy of a calendar. I do this every month. I pull down the cards and rearrange them so the dates match the days. I rub out the events of last month and I add the events of this month. I pin up the cards and photos I want to see. And the why of all that is kind of obvious to me. I like the way it looks. And I can only see one month at a time. This can get a little awkward when it comes to the 29th and the 30th and the 31st (on those months that contain those dates) because what happens next is unknown or must be remembered. But I don’t care. I get to peg up not just the things that must be done, the things that are a delight to do, and the start and end dates to all kinds of commitments, but also cards I want to keep and photos that jog the memory. Our weird dog Bailie needs stitches out this month. So there is a photo of her as well as the time she has to be at the vet.

There are a lot of blank dates. What a relief. There are days that beckon me to make decisions on the fly or to do nothing of significance.IMG_0140

And what’s kind of also good is that, like liquorice, no one else in the family likes the calendar or even uses it. There is not much space in this house that is lonely or quiet. Or even mine alone. But apparently this calendar is one of those places. A surrogate room.img_3658-copy.jpg

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