Yesterday was a very important anniversary — it’s been 40 years since Calvin and Hobbes came bounding into our lives, questioning how the world works and embracing the surreal.

More celebrations here and here.

I was the same age as Calvin when he premiered, and ten years later, by the time of that last printed adventure off on the sled, my high school Latin teacher was convinced that I was the female version. My name in class was Zoe, so she even called me Zoe Calvina (“Zoh-ay Cal-weena”,ifyky). While I was much perkier and extroverted in my youth, let’s face it, I was probably much more rule follower Susie Derkins — piano lessons and all. Although, while I behaved in classes and questioned adults (out loud) a lot less, I still have an out of control imagination and enjoy a good rage about the injustices of life. Mainly the injustices that I have to do any sort of work and that the people in charge appear to have no idea what they’re doing, but I digress.

I feel no one would appreciate the belatedness of this homework assignment and the fact that I was late to work because of cuddling an animal more than Calvin. Happy anniversary, buddy.