A recent post by Crazy Legs over at Theatre of Cruelty
reminded me of why February is the shortest month.
Growing up in a middle-middle class family in a blue collar Prairie city, we kept our sanity through twisted humour and relentless one-up-manship. Sheena can't remember ever living through a winter where she didn't hear the words "February is Free Month".
Competitive juices and never-pay-retail fierceness kept the Winnipeg winters at bay, warming our hearts with questionably procured booty.
Aunts, uncles, mothers, fathers, siblings and cousins. We made furtive evening phone calls, slammed down fists at Sunday dinners and in more recent years exchanged dissing emails. At the end of the month the bragging rights are awarded: He/She who gets the most free stuff by guile, contest or pure sheer luck was crowned winner for the year.
The last time Sheena won was about 8 years ago. That was when the stray kitten who refused to leave the front stairs finally was taken in for neutering and shots. We had agreed that he was officially adopted. Unfortunately there was another white cat at the vet that day. So when the poor darling was placed back into our arms, he not only was missing his balls, but no longer had any claws with which to scratch them. Yep - accidentally declawed during a mixup. All told, the free neutering, free declawing, free food and shots came to about $300 bucks. Sheena cried for her poor mutilated kitty, but won the family bragging rights, and that made it all OK.
So what's your free shit this month? Come on. Bragging rights on the table. Whaddya score?