This morning, I was doing calculations in my head involving dividing by the number of months in a year. 12, yeah. Divide by 12. It would be a lot easier if it was 10. Why not have 10 months per year? 36.5 days per month. Look, it’s already easier (dividing 365 days by 10)! So, every other month could have 36 or 37 days. Leap year, all that stuff.
What, then, do we call these months? Just cut out a couple of the current ones out? Which months don’t we like? April (tax day)? A cold month? Keep December, because of the holidays. Get rid of January? Maybe get rid of both January and February, because they are both hard to spell.
We don’t name the days of the month. We don’t name the years. Why do we name months, anyway? Unnecessary complications, if you asked me. We don’t call todays date, “February ProposeDay, Year of the Armadillo”. Numerically, it is 2019-2-8 (that format, year, month, day, is an international standard already). Let’s leave it at that. When someone asks you the date, just say “two eight”.
Yes, with 10 months. The last day of this year will be 2019-9-37.
Did you notice that I numbered the first month 0 (zero)? Sneaky, wasn’t it? Okay, we can debate starting with 0 or 1. I don’t mind.
One more thing, the Long Now Foundation suggests a five-digit year. I’m a big fan of theirs, so let’s change this to 02019-1-7 (starting both month and day of the month with 0! Super sneaky! Or, call it 02019-2-8).
Side note about the double entendre in the title: in high school creative writing, the teacher thought she would be creative by asking us hormonal children to write a story about dating. She meant romantic dating. I wrote about the dates on milk cartons. Yeah, I thought I was pretty smart…