As Jenn's birthday has now come and gone, my thoughts move to my own upcoming birthday (31). I'm not worried about the age. I think I took 28 the hardest of them all with the tears and the blubbering and the "so old" talk. 30 was a breeze. 29 was fine, and I doubt I'll even notice 31. However, it has been proven to me beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am a horrible, horrible person who thinks of no one but herself. And that's ok. The world takes all kinds. 2006 (the year I was 30) was The Year of Hating Everyone and Everything for me. I need to come up with a pithy name for the year I am 31 (2007).
Jenn has already told me that I am not permitted to have another Year of Hating, so I must come up with something else. I'll take suggestions. Keep in mind that The Year of Loving Everyone and Everything would make me vomit just a little bit into my mouth every day.
A particularly perky person at work told me he loved Mondays because it meant that he had 5 brand, new opportunities for greatness ahead of him. Well, I think I just threw up a little bit, but I get the idea. I really do try to do my best. really. Or at least something that looks really good but isn't actually my best but would probably be someone else's best. So, there's that.