Not my birthday March 6, 2008
In the last few years, I’ve been lucky enough to have the day off on my birthday - in most cases, it’s just the way things worked out. I’d spend the day living a lifestyle I could become very accustomed to [1] and enjoying the peace and quiet. [2]
This year… not so much. My birthday falls smack dab in the middle of the Easter Weekend, and if I wasn’t going home to visit the whole fam-damily, I’d be working. Bummer. Plus, the day off closest to my birthday will be spent travelling home [3].
That left today to do all my traditional birthday things, so here I am, in my pjs with a stack of books beside me. I’m boiling water for coffee, and there’s a small container of artichoke and asiago cheese dip in the fridge. Later, there will be apple crisp with cranberries and quite possibly whipped cream. Maybe a pot of chai to round out the afternoon.
Everything at work is getting busier and busier, so I’m just going to take the day to unwind and relax.
[1] Reading all day and eating whatever the hell I wanted.
[2] A few months ago, I was trying to figure out how old I’d be on this birthday, and promptly had a mini-panic attack. I’m almost 32? When did this come to pass? Wasn’t I just 29 last week, or something like that?
[3] Yes, there are Sundays, but Sundays are for laundry and groceries and housework. And there is a Saturday between now and then, but I’m going out of town that day.
Happy Not Birthday!