Today is my birthday. So why am I not elated? I don’t know. I have woken up with a splitting headache and grumpy as hell.
“I think you must be in your forties by now,” said Rupert when he woke up, which didn’t help matters.
I suppose the fact is it is just like any other day; the remote control still doesn’t work, we’ve run out of milk, my amazon rating is crap and the bills still need paying. But there is the pressure of having to make it special. Or feeling depressed if it’s not special. And terribly sorry for myself.
What to do to make it special? An episode of Sex and the City I think. And maybe they will have bought a cake at work. Obviously I won’t be eating any. Fat and old is no way to go through life. Well, maybe just a sliver.
As George Harrison said: “All the world is birthday cake, so take a piece, but not too much.”
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008