yesterday it was my birthday, I hung one more year on the line...
...I should be depressed, my life's a mess, but I'm having a good time...
Actually, Thursday was my birthday, but I can never miss a chance to quote 70s-era Paul Simon.
I'm weird about my birthday. I can never decide if I want people to make a big deal about it or not. This makes me a giant pain in the ass, of course.
I don't know why I'm so ambivilent. It's not the fear of getting older. Every year, I just hope that I'll finally outgrow acne. 34 isn't a scary number, and my life is on an upward trajectory so the best years are certainly not behind me.
Of course, last year, my life really did suck fifteen kinds of monkey butt on my birthday. It was Holy Week, and I was staying on Jon and Ryan's couch and in no mood to celebrate. But Ryan and Leigh tried their best, making me a giant fondue feast and trying to get me all liquored up on red wine. I'm not really sure how the fondue fuel spilled on the table, and I certainly didn't leap on it heroically to save the table from the puddle of blue flames. I don't actually remember how the fire got put out, in fact. The cool thing was that it barely damaged the table, since only the fuel was burning.
So, after that, it was kind of a letdown not to get any flaming furniture in honor of my birthday this year.
The wedding is really overshadowing everything else right now, including the birthday, which is to be expected. Actually, my birthday was also the one-month point for the wedding, so we're now into a matter of weeks. I should be sewing right now.
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