People asked me what I did yesterday to celebrate my birthday. My older sister woke me up early to wish me Happy Birthday, and we discussed getting together later in the week for a celebratory lunch. Her birthday is a week after mine. Then I went back to sleep.
I woke up to the floors that Ass Burger Boy had mopped for me. Love that. And to the smell of fresh coffee he had made. Also an email from him announcing the money is in the bank. (from a paypal payment)
After trying most of the morning to upload a dubious picture of myself as a wanton wild child, I abandoned my post for a doctor’s appointment.
The doctor had called me in to discuss the status of my prescriptions. I had run out about two weeks before the three month duration had expired. We agreed that this doesn’t constitute drug abuse. As he was looking at my files, he said it must have been a psychic impulse that had him call me in because there had been no word from the surgeon, and he needed to find out why. He’s really a sweetie.
It seems the surgeon had put a low priority code on my file because it didn’t seem alarming to him. Okay, fine, but I won’t be available until after August 18th for appointments. I’m really not in a hurry to have a tube and a camera inserted into my backside.
So I bought myself a package of strawberry twizzlers and decided I wasn’t cooking supper unless I could persuade Ass Burger Boy to run to the store for a frozen pizza. (That’s not really cooking. And I could have filled up on twizzlers.)
We toyed with the idea of seeing a favourite jazz singer of mine perform, but I chose to shed the bra and get back into jammies.
Then the uploads worked, and I posted my post, only to find that Hotfessional had outed my birthday. There are a few anonymous bloggers who know each other’s real identities, and are Facebook friends. Facebook announces your birthday.
So for those who wanted to know about my day. Pretty boring. Store bought pizza, strawberry twizzlers, and red wine. Not like the days when I was the Queen.
And this morning, when I was waking up, I was dreaming about bingo. Maybe it’s a sign that I should go.
