#21: FEBRUARY 29, 1790

(Philadelphia, 1790. Early morning. BETSY'S living room. The house is silent. Then at the front door: Knock knock. Long silence. Knock Knock. Again, silence. Knock Knock. BETSY enters down the stairs with bed hair. She's very sensitive to light. She wears slippers.)

BETSY: Okay. Hold your horses. I'm coming.

(Knock knock.)

BETSY: You're knocking. I hear you.

(Knock knock.)

BETSY: More knocking. This better be grand to wake me up at the crack of - (she opens the door) George!
GEORGE: Betsy. You're late.
BETSY: You'll have to excuse me, my manners left me. Mr. President.
GEORGE: I see that you are not yet ready for the day. This move. Not a wise one.
BETSY: Ready? Why be ready? I was sleeping.
GEORGE: The Census Act. We were set to announce it today. Your second claim to fame. That you all but begged me for.
BETSY: Mr. President - how do I say this respectfully: That's tomorrow.
GEORGE: If by tomorrow you mean today, then yes it is tomorrow.
BETSY: Okay, listen to me: I sewed the perfect dress. I've been counting the days. Being the national figureheard of this Census is set to ensure me as a household namesake, I wouldn't just oversleep!
GEORGE: This is coming from the woman who is wearing her nightgown and rubbing sleep residue out of her eyes twenty minutes after she is due downtown?
BETSY: We agreed by written letter I would meet you at courthouse. We agreed!
GEORGE: That we did.
BETSY: And you told me how proud you were to give me this honor. Just like the flag gig.
GEORGE: That I did.
BETSY: Okay then. So why are you here a day early?
GEORGE: A day early? Your humor - it - it's lost on me.
BETSY: George: we planned this down to the needle and thread. We agreed - mutually - that I would meet you on the 1st of March.
GEORGE: Thank you Betsy. So you admit you failed?
BETSY: Failed? How could I fail to meet you on March 1st when it's still February.
GEORGE: Still February?
BETSY: It's the 29th, we meet in just under twenty-four hours. I may be known to take a long time to get ready, but even I think I can pull it off with a full day of prep time!
GEORGE: The bitter irony...
BETSY: What bitter irony?
GEORGE: O. to think that I was going to bestow this Great Honor of spear-heading the 1st ever Census of these United States, one of the most logistically challenging and detail-driven projects ever to be carried out by the human species to someone so very tragically flawed by her sense of numbers and logistics.
BETSY: Tragically flawed? Numbers and logisitcs? Why do you speak like this?
GEORGE: I will say it once and only once.
BETSY: Yes, Mr. President...
GEORGE: 1790 is not a leap year.
BETSY: God save me! No! I'll run upstairs, I can be corsetted and ready for the public in forty minutes, no, thirty minutes.

(BETSY, realizing her gross error, bolts to the stairs to her bedroom to quickly get ready.)

GEORGE: I'm afraid it's too late.
BETSY: I can still do this.
GEORGE: There will be a Census Betsy. It will be done.
BETSY: Okay...
GEROGE: You are removed from the project.
BETSY: You can't.
GEORGE: You no longer - count.
BETSY: I count. I have to! Let me just throw the dress on and -
GEORGE: Silly Betsy! You threw it all away.
BETSY: The Census of 1790 was my ticket to the top, George. I need this.

GEORGE: Do something useful and sew yourself a calendar.

BLACKOUT