I had a birthday. (You knew that.)
It wasn’t really my choice, but apparently I didn’t get a vote.
Most of my birthday was fabulous (and by “most” I mean 99.76%). Lots of people sent birthday wishes, Grandma found the World’s Best Birthday Card, and there were a couple of fabulous surprises during the day.
The teeny little problem is that I got older. When you’re your age, getting older isn’t a bad thing. It can even be a good thing. When you’re my age, getting older means wrinkles. And the older you get, the more “presents” the Wrinkle Fairy drops off.
Dang Wrinkle Fairy. And her cousin Gray Hair.
Most of my friends sent lovely wishes. Especially the ones confirming that I was only 29 (and therefore only entitled to a small drop off from the Wrinkle Fairy). A few people sent weirder messages reminding me that I am an Aging Human. One sent a message saying “Only 50 more birthdays until you can retire”. I kid you not. I still haven’t figured out what to think about that one.
Did I tell you that even Google knew it was my birthday? Is that cool or creepy? I’m just not sure.
On the whole, I think I’ll have another birthday next year.