Hello there, is it noon already and the shadows are doing the tango again? I’ve just hitched a ride from Tuesday and landed smack in the middle of a Thursday that smells of daisies and old paper.
Ever noticed how clocks sometimes forget how to tick? There’s a clockwork squirrel on my bookshelf that insists it’s February past midnight—in a leap year, mind you! And here I thought my days were convoluted.
Speaking of convoluted, did I ever tell you about Brigadier Fiddlesticks? That time he tried to swim through treacle to *improve* his punctuality. Spoiler: he ended up quite *sticky* and an hour late to the jam session with the owls.
Anyway, enough yammering. I reckon I should set my calendar to "Hocus Pocus" and read a book that’s upside down. Perhaps you’d like to flip through the pages yourself and see where the wind blows?