Open Post: Who invented this calendar anyway?

[futaille]

How unfortunate.

Yes, Grantaire was fully aware that the year being longer at the mansion would logically cause seasons to drift when someone kept track of the old calendar, or at least what had been pinned down as the old calendar for convenience sake, which was almost necessary when people's arrivals weren't necessarily tied to the day they left. He hadn't given it too much thought last year, when his birthday, such that it was, arrived in spring like he was used to.

Dark, though, was unfortunate. Not inappropriate for the next notable anniversary coming up, but for this one, not at all. Of course, it wasn't as if he would have been planning much in the way of an event, Dark or no, but it would have been nice to treat himself to something or other, regardless.

Instead, he has installed himself in the game room, where he is carefully balancing dominoes on their ends to make a domino rally on the billiards table. It's a nice large flat surface, so it should work nicely. Have to keep entertained somehow.

Comments

[futaille]

"Ah! In lieu, then, of dragging you to the library and probably not finding anything on account of the season, imagine what looks like a snail shell, with little octopus arms and eyes poking out of the end."

[sagramore]

"I have no imagination, I can't envision it. Canst thou draw me one?"

[futaille]

"Certainly I can!" He looks around for something to draw with.

[sagramore]

Sagramore, reluctantly, lets him go and returns to the cake situation -- he remembers to pre-heat the oven, and while that's going on he starts spooning batter into pans.

[futaille]

Grantaire roots through a few drawers and, the season being what it is, comes up with a CVS receipt and a dull half-used crayon in the color 'Mauvelous'. Beggars can't be choosers in Dark, though, so he flips the receipt over and leans over the counter to draw over the return policy.

[sagramore]

After a few moments, the pans are ready to go into the oven; Sagramore begins dumping the dishes into the sink, where he's probably going to forget about them.

[futaille]

Which is fine, because Grantaire certainly won't be remembering them either, and at that point, they don't exist anymore. He looks up with a smile. "I'm ready whenever you are."

[sagramore]

"Please! Let me see thy masterpiece."

[futaille]

Grantaire holds up the picture. Undoubtedly, experts would be able to find errors, but he has managed to produce as creditable a drawing of a nautilus as a non-expert can create with a crayon on the back of a receipt. At the very least, the basic principles are displayed.

[sagramore]

Sagramore puts on his reading glasses and peers at it before demanding, "Thou'rt telling me this is a real creature?"

[futaille]

"It is! People often carve their shells to make decorations."

[sagramore]

"What a mysterious place the future is!"

[futaille]

"It is somewhat amazing that the more people learn, the more there somehow is left to learn. The history of humanity is a long string of learning just how ignorant we are."

[sagramore]

"This does improve my outlook on being an idiot."

[futaille]

"Oh, we're all idiots. Even the smartest person who's ever lived is an idiot."

[sagramore]

"What's thy reasoning?"

[futaille]

"There is the base of the uncountable mass of things that have yet to be learned or discovered by anyone, leaving a vast quantity of knowledge that even the smartest person ever couldn't possibly know, but then add on the individual things that any given person, even the smartest one, just happens to not know, whether they forgot about it or they never learned or even having it slip their mind for a moment... every single human who has ever lived is ignorant of so many more things than they were aware of."

[sagramore]

"Wise, wise words, even speaking relatively!" Sagramore applauds just as the oven chirps about being preheated.

[futaille]

"Like Socrates, knowing only that he knew nothing." He glances at the oven. "Oh, it's ready!"

[sagramore]

"Oh, quick, put the cake in! Let's say thirty minutes to start."

[futaille]

"Right away!" He promptly goes over, opens the oven, and pops the cake in, closing the oven door behind him.

[sagramore]

"Beautiful." He pauses. "It's fairly dense. We'll see whether half an hour really does it."

[futaille]

"Oh no. The prospect of having to wait slightly longer for a surprise cake. How terrifying."

[sagramore]

"So sayst thou now, when thou hast not yet had to do any waiting."

[futaille]

"I've had to do some waiting, or there would have been a cake just sitting here when we arrived."