Why I suck at Leap Year

Leap Year should be a holiday. A real holiday. It should be a holiday where everyone stays home from work and takes care of those things they have always been meaning to do or have good intentions to do, but “just don’t have time.”

LEAP YEAR

Today was Leap Year and I have nothing to show for it.

It’s such a weird concept, really. For three years we’re perfectly content shorting poor February two or three days, but the fourth year we tease it by giving it that extra day, making it feel like a “real month,” just before snatching it away again for another four years. Presumably while laughing maniacally.

The fact that Leap Year was on a Monday this year seemed even more of a cruel joke. Here, we’ll throw you an extra day this year. Buuuuut, it’s gonna be a Monday. Okay, I realize today STILL would’ve been Monday even if it wasn’t a Leap Year (I do understand how calendars work), but for some reason it seems even worse to know that our one extra day in FOUR YEARS is the most openly hated day of the week.

Honestly, Leap Year should be a holiday. A real holiday. It should be a holiday where everyone stays home from work and takes care of those things they have always been meaning to do or have good intentions to do, but “just don’t have time.”

Guess what? Just found your time, bitches. (Pretty sure this should be the new Leap Year slogan.)

So if this were true and Leap Year was a do-everything-you-say-you-don’t-have-time-to-do holiday, my day should’ve consisted of me checking off the following tasks:

  • scraping the grease off the fan above our stove–or even better, just tearing out the fan because every time you turn it on it sounds like a knife got caught in the garbage disposal WHILE a jet was taking off in the kitchen.
  • testing all of my circuit breakers to find out just which one controls the area of the basement that has been completely dark for at least six months.
  • taking the dog on a “real walk.”
  • re-patching that hole we patched up that looks like we tried to patch it up–that one that lost to Boy #1’s fist.
  • re-patching that other hole we patched up that looks like we tried to patch it up–that one that lost to Boy #3’s foot.
  • clearing a path in the garage so we don’t have to climb over two soccer goals, a broken dishwasher, a wheelbarrow full of dead leaves and board games (don’t ask), 5,304 empty bottles and cans, three sad-looking bikes and an assortment of tools that didn’t quite make it into the toolbox every time we need to do a search and rescue on our snowblower or lawnmower.
  • shredding those DIRECTV bills that we kept this long just in case someone needed to know whether or not we purchased the NFL Sunday Ticket in 2003.
  • exercising — just anything resembling exercising.
  • organizing the five drawers I have for cooking utensils and tools, one of which I’m pretty sure only contains a biscuit cutter (Confession: I’ve never once made biscuits) and a pair of chopsticks from the Chinese kitchen at Hy-Vee.
  • getting all caught up on laundry (Okay, I couldn’t even type that with a straight face).
  • cleaning out our medicine cupboard and realizing that 90% of the medications we have expired before Boy #3 was conceived.

But alas, the Leap Year free-day holiday has not yet taken hold, so instead my day consisted of going to work, coming home, making dinner “from scratch,” (aka a box, a jar and a pre-made package from Target), running out to the grocery story to fetch 7-Up and Jello for my ailing husband and hoping I can scrounge around matching (or even “nearly matching”) socks for everyone tomorrow since I’m feeling too lazy to throw in a load of laundry. Oh, and writing this post.

What can I say? The fact that it’s a Monday pretty much cancelled out any extra ambition I had to take advantage of this “bonus day.”

The good news? In 2020, Leap Year is on a Saturday.

I guess I’ll just have to put off vacuuming out my vents until then.