Setting the Saturday Record

I marched straight across the sunlit oak desk to get the morning organized and ran right into the perpetual wooden block calendar. The date was still stubbornly showing yesterday's digits! Obviously, no self-respecting weekend planner lets time run on yesterday's clock. I slung my blue purse securely over my forearm, tapped my pink hip monitor to confirm prime morning stats, and planted my heeled boots against the polished desktop. Bracing my shoulder against the chunky white pine cube, I gave it a hefty heave. With a loud, wooden clop, the block tumbled onto the bold black number seven, locking into place beside the one. Saturday seventeen is officially on the board, and I didn't even drop my purse!