Today was my birthday. A rather quiet affair. No cake, no party and no fuss made. Because that is how I wanted it. It was the 'unbirthday'. I haven't answered the phone except to talk to my kids. No one else. Jacob went to work. I wrote again, I window-shopped. I left the gardens covered because of expected frost. I did almost nothing.
Sort of like the not-quite-mental patient from earlier in the week thrashing in an ocean of despair, I rode the wave of quiet routine to shore and then sat like a lump in the sand basking in the total and utter boredom.
Because I am an all or nothing type of girl.
It was awesome. I'm going to go and pour one glass of wine (just one, I'm not a masochist, people!) and toast myself for making it through one of the hardest years of my life. I'm kissing thirty-four goodbye.
Happy birthday to me.