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

[sagramore]

"I really don't understand it," plaintively.

[futaille]

"Surely nobody does."

[sagramore]

"Wouldst think with all this magic we'd have invented faster means by now."

[futaille]

"Can you use the microwave for cakes? That cooks fast."

[sagramore]

"Huh," Sagramore says. "I've never tried cooking in the microwave. That's a good idea. We could do one in there and leave one in the oven."

[futaille]

"Maybe a smaller one because there's not as much space."

[sagramore]

"Good thinking."

Sagramore opens the oven and reaches in for one of the metal cake pans, which immediately leads to his fingers being burnt, because he's forgotten to grab an oven mitt first; he mutters fuck. He knows from helping Laertes bake that there's a risk of the cakes falling if the oven door stays open too long, so as quickly as he can he snatches a dish towel and pulls the pan out and onto the counter.

[futaille]

"Oh! Are you all right?"

[sagramore]

"I'm fine. Damn, that was hot! Open the microwave for me, wilt thou?"

[futaille]

He nods and walks over to the microwave and hits the button to pop it open.

[sagramore]

Sagramore slides the pan inside. "How long, dost thou think? Five minutes?"

[futaille]

"Worth a try. We can always put it in for longer if it's not enough."

[sagramore]

"That's a good point. All right." He programs the microwave, turns it on, and stands back.

It is... just like microwaving anything else.

[futaille]

They will be learning no important lessons today. "One almost wonders why people bother with ovens when this exists."

[sagramore]

"I have no idea! I suppose there might be some difference in the final product, but even so."

[futaille]

"Surely the convenience must outweigh whatever slight difference there is."

[sagramore]

"One would think! I really don't understand it."

[futaille]

"I think it just distills to the fact that people are strange and if you think about it too long, you'll tie your brain in knots."

[sagramore]

"Oh, is that the answer? Idiosyncracy?"

[futaille]

"Accounts for by far most of human history. Why not this too?"

[sagramore]

"That's a fair point. We're an inexplicable race."

[futaille]

"An inexplicable race that continues to inexplicably attempt to explain itself."

[sagramore]

"Isn't that what we're all doing, really? Making excuses?"

[futaille]

"I can't say you're wrong, thinking about it."

[sagramore]

"Making excuses and waiting for cake," with a sigh.