…but it’s my birthday!

Isn’t it funny how we expect certain things on our birthday, as if the universe should somehow be tuned in?  Even at my age (which is that much older than it was yesterday at this time), I still find myself saying, “But it’s my birthday!”  As in, I woke up in the morning with a sore back and thought, “But it’s my birthday!” (although, come to think of it, that one is rather appropriate).  Then, on my way to work, somebody cut me off and I was all, “Eff you, too, buddy!  It’s my birthday!”  Someone brought in brownies this morning and the first thing I thought was, “Woo hoo!  Happy birthday to me!”  After work, I have to go the DMV and renew my license, and I can’t help but think, “Hopefully it won’t be too busy.  After all, it’s my birthday.”  And I know tonight, when I try to get Natalie to settle down and stop raging like she’s been wont to do lately, I know I’ll be thinking, “Please, please, please stop with the meltdowns…it’s my birthday!”

I admit to being a little spoiled on my birthday (okay, every day).  If all goes well, I’m going to get nachos for dinner (by request) and I’ve been given permission to buy myself a game, should I choose to (who has time to play when I should be writing?  Turns out I do!).  I can’t expect the rest of the world to care about my special day.  I’m not even sure why *I* care.  After all, it’s just a date attached to a month pertaining to an event I can’t possibly recall.  And with the strange way our calendar is set up (Leap Year and all that), I can’t honestly say I’ve lived for 35 sets of 365 days.   But for all the holidays we’re told to care about through crass commercialization and forced nostalgia, I can get behind birthdays.  If we have to pick any day out of any month of the year to look back at our accomplishments and look forward to what’s to come, why not let it be the one that symbolizes the day we came kicking and screaming into the world?  And if it happens to come with a plate of nachos, maybe a game and a little something something (if I’m lucky), who am I to complain?  After all, yes, it’s my birthday.

Now let’s see if I’m even half this excited next year.


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