We just got home from the big inventory night at the store, and it's now 1:00 on the 25th, but to preserve the beautiful uniformity of our little calender to the left there I'm going to post-date this entry to the 24th. And to justify that decision, and offer the only content my dead-tired brain can manage, I present my theory of when days actually start and end:
See, clocks and calendars and things aren't able to take context into consideration; they need to pick a point to switch from one day to another, a point that applies to everyone, and it doesn't matter what you may be doing at the time. But we as humans need not bow blindly to their fiat in all cases, and this one here presents a prime example. We haven't gone to bed yet; clearly, then, it is not yet tomorrow. 'Wait, Dan!' I hear you saying. 'What does that mean when folks stay up for three days straight?' Besides suggesting that such a thing should never, ever be attempted, I say that we have another, far more obvious marker of the new day than the chiming of the pedantic clock: and that, of course, is the sunrise.
So where does that leave us? It's simple. A new day starts when you wake up from your night's sleep or at sunrise, whichever comes first (one proviso being that if you wake up from your night's sleep and then fail to stay awake past the next sunrise--if, that is, you were sleeping during the nighttime hours--that doesn't count as a new day). With that in mind, I see no moral objection to cheating a little with Moveable Type's dates. Which I will now do.