The odd leftover day stuck to the end of a dreadful little month thereby extending the hell that is known as february ... a barren bundle of 28 dark and cold days. Often celebrated with potlucks and birthday parties for the often strange employee who was unfortunate enough to be born on this day.
me: "As a single, non-African American male who is not really excited about groundhogs or dead presidents, i am so happy that this month is finally over."
you: "Really? The every four year leap day festival potluck spread replete with all sorts of casseroles and jello dishes and topped off with a birthday cake for Warren from accounting doesn't have you tingling with excitement?"