the fireworks, shot out of canons on the queen mary, heralding the end of pride weekend (how’s that for a metaphor?) just started outside our window. i told the girls they could get up and watch them.
a few minutes in, b says: we should probably get back to bed.
only child in the world who sees fireworks and thinks, “meh. i’d rather sleep.”
wednesday is my birthday.
it sounds less fun than it is when you remember you’re far away from your sister and your other relatives and when you remember that the family you created does not exist in the same house on wednesdays.
it sounds less fun when you remember you are separated by work and miles from your friends and you’re in the middle of untold ridiculousness at work so there’s no one to celebrate with - even on the sly.
it sounds less fun when you might like to celebrate with your sweetheart and some close pals at disneyland, but you remember that no one could get the day off and your sweetheart would rather be forced to eat chalk.
364 days a year, i am happy to do disney alone. may 22 is the one day i am not.
cut to this morning: i told wonderdad that i know we’re beyond broke, so what i would really like for my birthday is to come home from work today to a clean house…so when i’m off on tuesday and wednesday i won’t have to worry about that and i can enjoy my time off and relax.
i came home and crossed the breezeway and could see the lights weren’t on. were they surprising me?
the house was messier than when i left. i was really surprised. and annoyed.