Its my birthday this week. I turned 44 years old. At least, I’m pretty sure I’m 44. Its an even year and I was born in an even year, so that sounds about right. And as a lovely birthday present, I got COVID.
All of my plans were canceled. My lunch date. My spa appointments. My 4th of July baseball game, and my #TreatYoSelf day. All of it canceled. In addition to this slap in the face, NO ONE ELSE got Covid in the house.
I took so many naps over the weekend and I passed the fuck out every night. To be fair, it was probably some of the best sleep I’ve had in a while.
I did make my own cake, as I usually do, and it turned out to be a shitshow. I was playing with my new Russian piping tips and I definitely need more practice. Also, there are sprinkles EVERYWHERE! I went a little nuts. Everytime we clean up the sprinkles, we take the cake out of the refridgerator and there are even more sprinkles. It’s like glitter in here only tiny little candy balls.
I made my little rosettes and then froze them. I didn’t really count them or have a plan. I was really just playing. When I was putting on the rosettes, I had a weird number and god dammit, I made them, so they were going on there. So, I got this:
Which now looks like a nipple. You’re welcome for that visual.
On the plus side, I’m old enough to have the money for a kickass present. Bahahaha! Happy Birthday to me! Thanks RPG!
So, what have we learned?
Well, I learned that being in my 40’s sucks. I’m never going to go to the spa and get my message because this is the second time it was canceled due to covid. However, being older and more secure financially means better presents.
All in all, I want a birthday do-over.