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Knowing I love pancakes, a friend messaged me on Shrove Tuesday and asked: are you having pancakes? I blithely replied: every day is pancake day. Another friend messaged me today, and, knowing I love margharitas, said: btw tomorrow is National Margharita Day! I blithely replied: are they making this shit up now?
This new onus, since the pandemic began, on marking seasonal rituals and ‘special days’ is becoming extremely irksome. I get it, we’re all clutching at straws, trying to make something out of nothing, trying to find little things to look forward to… Spring, Easter, Mother’s Day, National Frickin’ Margarita Day… but to be honest it’s not filling my cup. It’s all so forced, glossy, prescriptive, conformist.