Mother’s day

Judging by the throngs of people actively changing their Facebook statuses and WhatsApp profile pictures, I came to a safe conclusion that mother’s day was yesterday. 

Give me a break. I find it hard to remember my own dog’s birthday, who, mind you, I love very much and in such amnesiac circumstances, you can’t hold it against me for not knowing when mother’s, father’s, brother’s or boyfriend’s day is. 

I believe the last one is called valentine’s day. Although it includes a whole lot of other people including husbands, wives, other people’s husbands etc. You get the drift. 

I’m not big on formalities and neither am I a fan or follower of these meaningless days. Today is actually My day. Did you know that? Of course you didn’t. On this day, I wrote this blog and felt like I achieved something great and from there, the entirely whimsical idea of calling 16-5-17 “my day” originated. 

Oh look! I manage to get by and exist for all 365 days of the year but for some reason, I just had to select one single day out of these to celebrate my low life. This makes as much sense to me as the “We” that Mr. Trumpet of the USA tweeted a few days ago. 

Along similar lines let me question the existence of any other human day that we homosapiens have managed to fabricate in the name of showering love and affection over one chosen person. 

Why a day? Are you supposed to pay some taxes to celebrate such a day? I mean, that would be understandable because you’d have to dedicate your entire salary to this tax paying charade if it were to extend for a complete year.

Who even came up with this? 

Another fascinating concept is the fact that it is apparently celebrated on different dates each year! 

What sorcery is this? 

I have no intention to dedicate any singular day to my mom or dad because serving them and tending to them will not be done in a day and I’m a bit of a lazy bum. I procrastinate but I do deliver.