The 26-year (b)itch

Yep. It's my birfday. Happy Birfday to me, now go finish the laundry, do the dishes, clean the kitchen, mop the floor, sort your crap, send the presents, do the ironing, get some toilet paper, and maybe later, we'll let you go to your hair appointment.

Yep. It's my birfday.

In other news, my x-mas shopping is all done except for Rodney's gift. I would tell you what I'm getting him, but I can't take the remote risk that he'll take the opportunity to drop in here and see what his girlfriend isn't telling him about life. :)

I'm not surprised most people are bailing on my birfday. It's always been a bad time of year for everyone. Growing up it was always the rush to jam work in before the holidays, then it was University finals time, and everyone's stress levels go up naturally from all the shopping. It's pretty easy to be forgotten in the melee. And since we're a pretty low-key family, there's just never been much of a reason to make a big deal of my birfday. There was when I was a kid obviously, and until Gramma died there was because you couldn't forget that we shared the same birfday.

uh-oh....he's awake....be back later