They Say it’s My Birthday

I knew that yesterday when I got home from work and there was no birthday card in my mailbox that the mailman had not yet come. This was a good thing because yesterday did not start out well, in that I forgot to take the Christmas cards to the mail on my way out to work. I was running late, I had no time to make a bagel, and it was icy and frozen outside. But that was yesterday, and I did end up getting my cards in the mail on time. Except for a couple. Like Ben’s. So, sorry Ben, you might not get yours until after Christmas because your address is not listed, and for some reason I don’t have it written down anywhere that I can find.

So today I’ve already been spanked and sang to. It’s not nearly as freezing out, but I don’t get to drive the new car. I’m looking forward to going to dinner at PF Chang’s. The only bum thing about this birthday is that it happens to coincide with the worst day of my female cycle. And I’m sure you all needed to know that information.

As long as I keep the Aleve in my system, it should be fun. The apartment is relatively clean, and I’ll be spending my birthday with friends and loved ones. And I’m officially a year older. But numbers never really mattered to my age much anyway.

Rob once told me, “You know, Sara, you’re going to have to grow up sometime.”

I said, “Why?”

I think I’m mature in enough ways that I can afford not to “grow up” completely.


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