It's my birthday, did you know that? I keep trying to craft a concise blog post (unsuccessfully, I might add) that indicates my personal confusion about birthdays in general. On one hand, it's just another day and who cares? I still have to pick up the dog's poop and brush my teeth. On the other hand, why didn't anyone send me flowers? Doesn't anyone care that it's my birthday?!
See? I'm a contradictory person. There's just no denying it.
I'm just happy I didn't get a call this morning from my mother, at 6:45 am SHARP. She did that once, you know. I was born at 6:45 am, three full days before my due date. And it was perhaps the last time I was early. For anything. Ever again.
See? I'm a contradictory person. There's just no denying it.
I'm just happy I didn't get a call this morning from my mother, at 6:45 am SHARP. She did that once, you know. I was born at 6:45 am, three full days before my due date. And it was perhaps the last time I was early. For anything. Ever again.
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