I always have several. Choosing wall calendars is an important annual ritual for me; I pick them out carefully, both for myself and for members of my family. The one in my room is always an art calendar. This year it’s Monet. Last year it was Rembrandt, and before that Vermeer.
In the kitchen I have Tiffany windows; in one bathroom, photos of loons—I’m a loon lover—and in the other, art deco posters. The last of those was a gift to me, and I chose the others.
I think I acquired this custom from my mother, who was such a calendar lover that she’d hang as many as five just in her tiny kitchen space, stacked on top of one another on the same two picture hangers and rotated during the month. I am less of a nut than my mother was.