This isn’t just tardiness anymore. It’s truancy.
My roommate from the first semester of my sophomore year of university said she could always tell how intoxicated I must have been when I got home by the state of my clothes the next morning. This generally ranged from folded neatly on my desk chair to, well, still on me. And backwards.
While I no longer drink with the frequency or enthusiasm which makes this gauge useful, there seem to be other trends which serve as ways to quantify parts of my life which tend to otherwise be purely subjective. For example, I find I can always figure out how stressful my life has been by taking a look at my calendars. Today, the sixth of August, my large monthly calendar is still turned to July. More specifically, my page-a-day calendar has not had pages removed since the seventeenth of last month.
Anyway, I just remembered that this is another month beginning with the letter A, so I ought to blog every day. I’m late to start, but I’ll just do a week of BEDS starting in September. Close enough.