Twenty-ten

"You're leaving quite early?"

"Yeah, it's market day," he said.

"And it's something else, too."

"What's that?"

I let out a short sigh, quickly caught by a what's-wrong-with-you smile. "It's my birthday."

"It's not. That's tomorrow."

Ok, why argue, right? He's clearly forgotten it. Oh well, well, well...

Alone later, I thought, it's somehow good to forget when you're turning a year. It's definitely not a younger year anyway. But on second and more dramatic thought, hey, I'm turning the 3-big-O this year!

I decided to put on a pout when we met again after work, and somehow it didn't turn right.Funny as it may seem, we ended up with a slight argument. A celebration wasn't anywhere near that hour because of the long weekend ahead, so we could very well afford that misunderstanding. Then today, my chef and I met with differences set aside. He also made up somehow, with a new timepiece for me. To tell the time? What irony. (Well, yeah, it was something like that. Hehehe.)

***

Apparently, it wasn't only my husband who forgot my birthday. It was past mid-day before anyone in the pharmacy remembered it was my day. It was really nothing to fuss about, but they think it should be. So today, Bev and company surprised me with a cake and some indigenous balloons.

what's left of it... one candle per decade

my "Smokefree" campaign balloons looking naughty

To Bev, Bob, and Tamara, thank you very much. Late as it may be, you still made my day.