Does anybody really know what time it is?

I need to stop getting into my books so much.

At the barber shop this afternoon, I read a mystery set in Alaska in the autumn. When I was in the chair, the TV news had a story about a wanted bear in Montana. (Must've been a slow news day.) As I glanced at the picture, I thought, "It looks awfully green up there." Then I realized that it's still only July and remembered that it was autumn only in the book.

On the way to my weekly cheesesteak, I was behind a brand new Mercedes-Benz with a temporary tag which expires on August 21. "But that's... Oh, yeah. August hasn't happened yet."

This is why the world should pay me to stay home and read, rather than interact with everyone.