Giving this its own post rather than letting it languish in a Facebook comment thread, a Seussish response to ‘is tomorrow 100% Saturday?’:
It’s hard to be totally sure of the day,
When time zones are stretching out every which way.
When you fly westward, whose hours do you borrow?
And when you fly east, do you get there tomorrow?
Sometimes it’s safer to go south or north
If you do need to gallivant backwards and forth
But everyone’s place has its own kind of time
(Which makes this an awfully challenging rhyme.)
It’s nine in the morning in Honolulu,
But ten hours later around Timbuktu,
At least that’s what I think – it might be eleven,
Or possibly eight and three quarters point seven.
But wherever you are and whoever you be
In Ottawa, Canberra or Tripoli,
It only can ever be one day at once
Midnight can’t change in these temporal stunts.
In another three hours and one little bit,
Friday gets up so Saturday can sit,
In Eastern Time, anyway, others may vary,
But Saturday’s Saturday, never contrary.
That hundred percentness is perfectly right
For one entire day and two parts of a night….
(But if you have lingered to read all these ravings,
Don’t get me started about Daylight Savings!)