It was such a precious day off work. An unexpected one, on my hatch-day some more. Yet all I did for the most part of it was rolling on my bed, refusing to crawl out from underneath my big warm duvet, half the time blaming the splitting headache that kinda befuddled me.
I haven't had a headache for a long while. Did I do some lousy wine or whiskey last night? No, and no. Then I remembered. The stupid absenthes.
Then I recalled also that I hadn't had food down my throat for the past thirty-six hours or so. Which is quite a feat. So I ripped my fatass off the bed, but it took me all of two hours to get out.
I had hatched some grand plans for myself the day before. Like, I would dress up pretty so I could wear my new wedgies. No caps for today, I'd just pray for good hair. I would walk in town like a tai tai, shop around, see if I could grab some impulse buy and call it a well-deserved gift for myself. I would sit in a real nice Italian restaurant and have myself some squid-ink pasta.
But nada. None of that took place. 'Cept the dress-up-pretty-with-my-new-wedgies part. I settled for good ol' pho bo instead. I am in desperate need of soup.
By the time I was done with a small errand of picking up the camera from the service center (yes, dammit!), I was exhausted. And wishing I was still in bed instead. But no. Cannot. I forced myself down to the mall, I was even too lazy to train over to TST.
I walked into my favorite store, and really hoped to pick up something on impulse. The bags were yummilicious, but perhaps not enough to make me go crazy. Thank God.
Three hours after I got out of the house, all I wanted was to sit my fatass down at my Tantra and have my gin-and-tonic.
I am so weak. I hope this is not how being thirty is really like.
But I am a happy thirty-something.
I don't need a crowd around me, but I am glad I wasn't alone - nor on a plane - when the clock struck midnight yesterday.
I woke up to messages on my cell and on facebook and over my email. People whom I never expected to gave me their hugs and kisses and all their best wishes.
The phonecall that came right on the dot, all the way from Venice. The phonecall from the 6788-cronies all the way from Singers - you cheapskates, calling me from the office line, but I still love you guys. The phonecall from Pat the man, who gave me the first sound advice of the decade: you will start to feel weak so go easy on the drinks from now.
The e-card from my chick that had pigs dancing all over for me.
The Kate.
The message from my Kor and he went: Let us wish you HAPPY BIRTHDAY in advance! (From me, Swee Fun and Ciaran, and of course mum, pa, per and gracie!)
Per and Gracie. My babies. Not only could they not send me their blessings with their wet kisses, I had not been able to spend their birthdays with them this year.
And tears came to my eyes in a jiffy.
For the first time in my life, I am not spending a birthday with my folks.
It sure does feel good to feel loved.
I luff y'all too. : )
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