I bought a calendar last week.

I share this because I can’t remember ever buying a calendar. Somehow, I always accumulated them. Like rubber bands. I never bought a rubber band in my life. Yet I have a desk drawer full of them.

But back to calendars. Anytime I needed one, I found one. Folks gave them out.

Banks used to give out calendars. Banks also used to give out gifts when you give them your money. Now they charge you when you want to take out your money.

Funeral homes were very big on calendars. They had nice pictures. Calming scenes.

In January, there were woods blanked in white, as if an army of angels had decided to build tree houses. Some months had a babbling brook with cascading falls while others showed nature’s creatures roaming amidst ferns and flowers. Accompanying each month were words of comfort by Byron, Thoreau and Whitman about falling leaves, crossing a bridge or taking a new path. You see the theme?

I wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be a calendar or the funeral home’s not so subtle message of what you’ll be missing. I always thought at the end of each month on their calendar there should be a little congratulations from the gang at the funeral home. “Hey, you made it to March! That’s great. But you never can tell about April. So before turning the page, why not turn to us, to make sure all your funeral arrangements are in place.”

I used to get calendars from oil companies. No shots of cuddling by the fireplace here. They always had pictures of families in summer attire, watching television, with a snowstorm outside their window. Even in August. Guess their message was, “turn up the heat!”

Supermarkets had calendars. Each month filled with mouth-watering recipes that could easily be made at your home with just a quick trip to the… supermarket.

My mom used to get calendars with pockets that she hung inside the cabinet door. She’d stuff the pockets with enough junk so that by May you couldn’t close the cabinet doors.

I found it hard to buy a simple calendar. When I say a simple, I’m not talking about one that rounds every month off at 30 days or doesn’t include any Mondays because, well, does anybody really like Mondays. Simple means foregoing the scenic shots and just having some easy-to-read numbers, no themes. Just days of the week, with a sprinkling of the holidays you need to know. Ones that you can take off without losing your job.

Do I really need a calendar that informs me that Oct. 4 is “International Toot Your Flute Day,” that September is “National Coupon Month” or that May 29 is “Put a Pillow on your Fridge Day”?

If you’re looking for some excitement there’s the ever-popular “Nuns Having Fun” calendar. Yep, 12 months of nuns having fun.

Or spend the next 365 days looking at people doing Tai Chi poses, pictures of dogs, pictures of cats or pictures of dogs and cats doing Tai Chi. Look at Vin Diesel, diesel trucks, The Duke, Dukes, Earls and the Duke of Earl. Eminem or M&M’s, Harry Potter or just pots and pan.

You can get a magnetic calendar with 365 stickers to mark holidays, sleepovers, doctor appointments and birthdays. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I could fill 365 days with sticker “happenings.”

I know for a fact there was a day last August when I did absolutely nothing worth sticking on my calendar.

I should have hung around with the nuns.