Today is my birthday. I am that number up top now. You would know this if you were within a 2 foot radius of The Swimmy because all day long she’s told anyone within earshot that, “It’s my Mommy’s birthday today!” Which is very cute, except when you look like a truck hit you on I-10 because you’ve been dealing with insurance nightmares from the fire and the clean up and Benjamite throwing up all over himself at 5am which woke up The Swimmy and did I mention we had to stay at my folks house because of the smoke and sootiness?
Yep. Happy Birthday to ME!
Upon reflecting to my birthday last year, it appears my birthday is starting to create a suck trend in my life. Perhaps I should stop observing it. Perhaps I will just stay 36 thankyouverymuch not because I have a problem becoming 37 but because I’m too afraid of what catastrophe might befall Casa Pammer next year.
Yes. That sounds like a plan.
But I still want cake. And a drink.
Ah!! I shall drink and eat cake while the restoration people scrub down my house and belongings. Then I shall drunk shop on the internet for a new double oven because what’s a fire good for if not to upgrade your sucky appliances, right?!
Right. Now THAT’S a plan, my friends.