I'm not watching Savage Garden videos. You are.
I'm not enjoying the last day of my forties. No sirree. We already got groceries. I'm wearing my tiara. We have cupcakes for later and this is it, boys, there she goes. I'm not looking back. Not going to let it get me. Not going to entertain the ghosts for free when it costs me extra, not going to let fear rule when love does it so much better. Not going to put up with much more bullshit as every single man who walks into the room says something along the lines of not being able to believe that tomorrow is my birthday and it's a really big one.
A huge one.
One I can't wrap my brain around but the numbers don't care. They just keep marching like troops in nice solid blocks, in step, in cadence with each other and with the ticking of the clock.
How do you feel? Lochlan asks, for the dozenth time.
I have no answer for him, yet. This is too new.