It’s my birthday today. I’m 24. Woo-hoo.
Yesterday Andrew discovered that if you don’t cut a slit in the 90 second microwave rice, it will explode in the microwave.
Because it’s my birthday, I get Chinese food, which I love.
I can’t help but wonder if being deployed for so long changed me so much that I’ve alienated the few friends that I had before I left.
I hate birthdays. Actually, that’s not true, I just hate my birthday. I love birthdays that belong to other people.
Yesterday I put new sheets on the bed and this morning when I woke up, I seriously contemplated staying in bed for the rest of day because the new sheets, they are delicious.
Thanks to an old friend, who is bringing Xanga back, I just rediscovered the old blog that I had completely forgotten about. The person I was when I wrote in that blog is so different from the person that I am now that I almost don’t want to read through it.
I hung up two great big mirrors in our bedroom yesterday, thus solidifying my idea that I rock at “man stuff” that involves such things as screws, levels, and power tools.
I don’t remember hating a birthday as much as I hate this one. Last year was 23 and I was a little grumpy about it, but this year is worse. I didn’t even want today to come.
I feel silly as hell complaining that I just turned 24 because everyone I know is older. Like my husband. Who is 27 and tolerates my complaining much better than should be expected.
Almost eight years ago I lost a friend to suicide. His birthday was March 11th and so, every year before my birthday, more so that the rest of the year, I wonder what he would be doing if he was still alive. As in, would he be freaking about turning 24? Would he have joined the Navy like he mentioned? What kind of person would he be?
Andrew snuggles more since we’ve been married. I love it.
I’m not sure what we’re going to do today, but I think it might include going to the SPCA and giving love to puppies and kitties.