I just got an e-mail newsletter from Mike Daisey with this little gem:
Leap day is upon us--the rarest day on the calendar, which has no psychic or mythological signifcance attached to it beyond the need to make all our heavenly accounting books come out balanced. I've always thought that it should mean something, this day that only surfaces occasionally--it should be a night when the walls between worlds are thin, when the fates are shaken loose, when we can hear the rumbling bellows of the afterlife all around us. There should be a celebration, once every four years--masqued balls of exquiste complexity, where no one is allowed to speak, especially not to the lover they bring with them.
Something like that.
Happy Leap Day!