Today is our 4th potatoversary! That’s the largest amount of mirth you’ll get from us regarding today. What does it actually matter? Today marks the day that the legally binding side of our relationship has officially lasted four cycles of 365.25 days. Why this matters to anybody eludes us both constantly. We were considering doing something subversive to make a point, something distinctly anti-anniversary, but then we reasoned that perhaps that too would mark the day as noteworthy.
So instead, we’ve filled the day with good ol’ normality. Blip put up a new desk; it fits where it was supposed to go and it looks nice. Our landlord came over to replace an awkward light fitting. Other than that, the day has been entirely normal in structure and efficiency. We believe this makes our statement more clearly than anything directly subversive. To us, this day is as regular as any other as our relationship doesn’t need to be validated by cultural norms or by the misguided celebrations of mis-perceived mathematical symmetry.
This leads me onto the general question of why people care at all about anniversaries. Particularly about other people’s. We have had people telling us to celebrate ours, suggesting ways to do it or ‘innocently’ enquiring what we’re doing for it. Is this really the kind of idiocy that people fill their ever-dull lives with? Is this what the day-to-day mind-numbing emptiness of regular folk’s lives leads to? This obsessive yet reserved and ultimately insincere focussing on arbitrary boundaries of time seems to me like the fevered counting and gathering of seconds of a dying person, as though capturing and categorising as many time-based ‘achievements’ about how long we’ve lived, how long we’ve been married, how well we’re doing when applied to similar statistics of other people, will actually slow or ease the deceptive but inevitable decline into a cold, forgettable grave.