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Birthday? Okay then.

I have to confess I'm finding this whole birthday thing a bit meh these days.

Perhaps it's because nothing really happens on them anymore not because I am getting so old; I had presents last Sunday (a toaster! a clock! Ah adulthood) and I am going out to dinner tomorrow. And yes, I visited my friend tonight and she treated me to a takeaway, but that's our usual Saturday night transplanted to a Friday. I even went to the shop to buy a cake for afternoon off indulgence, but came out with some Bakewell Tarts and a packet of Wotsits.

Still, life could be a lot worse. Mustn'y grumble.

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Stick a candle in your Bakewell - or in your Wotsit if that is your wont - and have a good year!

It was the plan, but I ate them.

I have to confess I'm finding this whole birthday thing a bit meh these days.

Yeah, me too. But what the heck. Enjoy your bakewells.

Back on the diet tomorrow. Okay, Sunday.

Happy day after your birthday! Sorry I'm late.

Thank you for the thought anyway!

Happy Birthday! You are a year younger today (this is what I think when my birthday happens).

Thanks! My age doesn't bother me, I simply haven't wrapped my head around the possibilitythat I could be 42.

Edited at 2015-01-25 10:14 am (UTC)

Bogwitch! I forgot your birthday!!!!!!!!!!! It was my moving house day, which wasn't a present to anyone but myself. But happy birthday!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! At least the internet came back.

I need to make a post; you may be amused by my moving house adventures, or not, but there was the classic 'did a load of washing and the water wouldn't drain and the previous owner was fuck all use'. So I had my mum helping me manually drain it, so we could dig around in the filter and find a bunch of shirt tacks, 5p and a random bit of a stick.

No worries, you had much more important things on your mind!

At least your Mum had some handiness, I can't see mine doing that.

I'm still going to take this as a reason why the move (in the end) seems to have gone so well!

Although, when the problem first arose my mum mostly did her usual thing of expressing her frustration through spite and saying mean things about my lamp and general purchasing practices. Thankfully I was handy enough to find someone with the same problem on Google, work out where the filter was hidden behind the baseboard in the kitchen and then get it open with a screwdriver as a lever. She helped me bail and stopped saying mean things. And success was had by all!

Disapproving is a parental duty. I cling on my useless skull table purely because my mum loathes it.

What a wonderful expression of girl power.

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