It was the best day. I slept in. I got to go out for my favorite brunch, and the noodle behaved like a normal person. Then I went shopping and got lots of great new clothes. The most exciting thing is that they fit right AND were in fashion. After that I spent the afternoon at the spa. By myself. In the quiet. I came home and played with the noodle for a while (didn't want her to forget what I looked like) before going out for drinks and dinner with Mac and some friends. Followed by more drinks. And loud, adult music. Then I fell into a deep slumber and woke up feeling perfectly refreshed and ready to tackle the world.
Okay, maybe some of that didn't happen. Oh, alright, none of it happened. But I am willing it to happen in a few weeks on my 33rd birthday. 33! You see, Mac introduced the notion of turning double-digit birthdays into big celebrations a while back, and it struck a chord with me. So, rather than our recent habit of picking up carry-out sushi and champagne (not that there's anything wrong with that), I'm casting this wish out into the universe. Let 33 be big, and I will not ask for too much again until 44. Maybe.
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