They call me “mad.” I say I’m “organized.”

Over dinner this evening, Kara and I talked about when we adopted our two current feline companion animals, Winifred and Puck. I knew by heart the date that I brought Freddie home—October 1 is marked on our calendar as “Freddie-versary”—and that, based on a vet’s estimate of her age at the time of adoption, she was probably born on or near April 1.

puck_kitten_tower5However, we both struggled to remember exactly when we brought home our Mister Puck, or why I was so certain that his birthday fell sometime around election day. So I did what any good anal-retentive obsessive-compulsive would do: I went to my office, pulled my packet of tax receipts from fiscal year 2005, went through my old credit card statements, and found the transaction date for the day I paid his adoption fee.

March 6 is now known in our household as “Puck-iversary,” and I feel vindicated for keeping over a decade’s worth of financial records.

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