While walking the dog I passed a neighbor’s house with three very loud and energetic dogs. I almost never see any of these dogs, because they are in a fenced backyard, and I usually don’t hear all three at once, but the full orchestra was out then two barking loudly in different keys and tempos and one heartily going BAROO BAROO BAROO. It was like a modern jazz concert.
I stopped to record it and an older man came out of the house across the street from the Three Dog House. He was behind me. “I’m enjoying the music,” I said, and then I thought about hearing that every day. “Probably you don’t enjoy it.”
Because I was interrupted, I did not record the concert.
The man looked at Minnie and exclaimed, “The cone of shame!” Yes, Minnie is still wearing the cone. It’s been a month. We have an appointment at an eye specialist and are planning to switch vets.
A few minutes later I passed a parked car with a license plate frame that read something like, “CALIFORNIA — WHERE AMERICA’S DAY STARTS.” At least I think that’s what it said. But that does not make sense. As a longtime tech trade journalist, I am aware in my bones that the rest of America wakes up well before California does; when I hit my desk on a workday morning my Teams messages and emails are already full.
That sent me a down an Internet rabbit hole to find out where America’s day REALLY starts — in other words, what’s the furthest point east in either the continental US or territories. There are two possible answers, one of them a technicality.
The common-sense answer is a point in the U.S. Virgin Islands. I always forget the U.S. Virgin Islands exists.
The other answer, which will be great to know for a pub trivia quiz: A point on the Aleutian Islands of Alaska, which goes so far west that it crosses the 180th Meridian and becomes east.
I did not research this point, but I expect that this means the point in the US that is furthest west and the point that is furthest east are a single footstep apart from each other.