"You're the silent birthday type, aren't you?"

(Fun fact: I drafted out this post while in the kitchen of the theater about an hour ago, updated Facebook, and completely forgot what I'd wanted to say. Behold, the dangers of internet social sites!)

Just to say it--in the last few hours before it actually hits--it's not that I *don't* get excited about my birthday. And it's not (as I told a few people) that my birthdays peaked with the awesome college birthdays I had (hello, sidewalk chalk, pinata, sparkily red sequin dress, and light-up heels!) and therefore no one should ever try to impress me again.

Birthdays are one of the few days of the year* when magical things are supposed to happen to you, whether that means someone [finally!] gives you a pony or simply buys you a meal. People are nicer to you, and there's often cake dropped on your doorstop. Even if the day nosedives into the gravel, you get to remember that you lasted another year...and surely that's enough to make it through one more day.

So, please don't take it personal if you seem more excited about my birthday than I am tomorrow. I'll be bouncy on the inside, especially when I hit the free queso in the evening.


(*other days: Christmas, Black Friday, Groundhog Day)