Damn You, Profile. Damn You.

John is off to work for his first day. I am very happy for the promise of income at long last, but also a little sad. We are generally not used to being further away than the next room from each other. (Yes. Sick. I know.)

But what is a birthday with only myself and the worst of the comp books to read?

I won’t tell you which one (in case the author is one of those twists who Googles her name daily), but I call it “The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich for Buddhism.” Facts, facts, facts… for 300 pages. Not cool facts, either. Settlement and migration facts. Dates for the construction of various temples. Those kinds of facts.

Why the hell didn't I think of this when I scheduled that book for this week???

*sigh*

And I have a sore knee today from the six hours of walking on the job hunt yesterday… I am certainly feeling every one of my years right now, so that makes the birthday that much nicer, no? (Birthdays are only a boost if you look and feel at least 10 years younger.)

And now I made the monumental mistake of clicking on my profile. The age has changed. You can’t fool the automated age machine… Well, I could change the birth year, but I haven’t gotten quite that sad, yet. But I wish I could set it to not change until 9pm. I need those extra hours. I’m not yet done with 27.

Gonna write notes to various elderly relatives in thanks for their birthday cards (sad, too, that none can come from my aunt this year), and listen to that birthday episode of Our Miss Brooks…

28? More like 98!

Better make that muffin bran today.