Birthdays suck.
The getting old thing isn’t quite a big deal anymore. I’m far beyond that “I can’t grow old and die!” stage.
Besides, when you have icons like Keith Richards, old age doesn’t seem so bad.
It’s just that my birthdays aren’t happy.
I don’t ask for much. Greetings are good, gifts are welcome. But overall, a peaceful and happy day is all I want. For crying out loud, please have enough control not to scream at me on my birthday over a non-existent infraction.
And oh, why does everything have to be such a big deal? I suppose no one else on earth has the ability to turn leisure into a logistical nightmare.
Yes, I love you, but somedays I just can’t deal with these things as easily as I’d like to.
Especially not on my birthday.
