The first half of my birthday was brilliant! I spent it visiting some special women I really enjoy and then having lunch with a dear friend and her cherub of a baby. We laughed and ate yummy food. I read facebook birthday wishes and opened cards and gifts from far away friends. Like I said, brilliant.
The second half was miserable. It began with chauffer duty to piano and basketball, was followed by frozen pizza, middle school orientation (snooze) and a sad attempt to open presents and feign happiness for my kids whilst my stomach churned, then it ended with me on my knees in front of the toilet taking a mental inventory of all the things I’d eaten: japanese udon noodles with broccoli, mushrooms and chicken, cookies, a few hersheys kisses, that darn frozen pizza, a clementine and salad. Then I opened my mouth and . . .
Well, let’s just say it wasn’t the best birthday ever. There is a homemade chocolate cheesecake sitting in my fridge untouched. I didn’t get to see my Hubby hardly at all. And now I’m going to curl up under my heater blanket in my fuzzy socks and go back to bed.
Getting old is lame. But I do love my fuzzy socks.