So I’ve already confessed that I was in a poor-me mood earlier in the summer. This was a post that I wrote then and never published, because even in the midst of my funk I could tell it sounded kind of pathetic. But now that you and I both know that I’m emotionally removed from the topic, I think this post can be good for a laugh. The occasion, as you will very soon be able to infer, was the fact that my birthday came and went this June without as much fanfare as I thought it warranted. So, without further ado…
July 8, 2011
Except that I no longer have to split Dr. Peppers with my sisters, being grown-up is less fun that being a kid. On no day is this more striking than on my birthday.
There’s a little part of me that still counts down until the 24th of June and then expects magic once the day arrives. Maybe I’ll get a surprise package in the mail, or a singing telegram and balloon boquet, or a House Elf on the front door, ready to do my bidding and let me be Queen for the Day.
It’s kind of a letdown when Abby gets up early (and is not even extra-nice to me, thank you very much!), and she still expects me to cater to her every whim! Hello! Did she not notice the calendar? But June 24 or not, the applesauce still spills on the floor, that early-morning pee diaper still hangs out of her jammie shorts, waiting to be changed, and the dogs still scratch on the door to be let out.
Sigh. And there’s no milk in the fridge.
I wonder where I might get my hands on one of those “It’s my birthday!” pins like teachers distribute in kindergarten classes. Maybe if I wear it to HEB I’ll get some extra free samples.
The soap squirts out of the dispenser with too much force and gets on my favorite shirt.
The mailbox is full of credit card applications and Dollar General circulars.
The internet runs slowly.
I hit every red light while I’m out running errands.
My credit card payment is due.
But it’s my birthday!
It’s taken 29 years, but I’m finally realizing that a birthday is just another day. So sad! Next thing I know, someone will tell me that there’s not really a Dunder Mifflin paper company in Scranton.