Saturday is my birthday. I think it will be the last of its kind. My family expects to be together on certain dates, but they also know I have... certain anti-social issues. I wish they could understand these issues, but they never will and that's just as well.
I don't have anyone in my life who plans things. There's just me for that. And I want the kids to come home on my birthday, or any other time I can get them here, so I have to plan something. So I plan my (lame) party.
Ever notice how everything expires on your birthday? Your vehicle registration, your driver's license, your professional license... These things need tending to. By the birthday person. Who, in my case, then has to slap together some kind of inexpensive party in order to see her most loved people.
So, fix all the expiring shit, plan a party, pay for it (ouch), and then do a LOT of cleaning because people are coming over.
I hate my birthday. Just sayin'. I don't know how turning a year older evolved into me having to work my ass off, but I'm tired now and I have other things I want to do. Next year I'm leaving town. I don't care if it's just two nights at a Motel 6. Anywhere I can turn another year older without having to work my ass off for the privilege.
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