Friends, I’ve just celebrated another birthday, and even though it occurred in the middle of a work week while I was suffering from a nasty head cold, it was one of the best in years. What gives?
Because it didn’t begin well. I awoke around 2 a.m. to a coughing fit that had my husband, Doo, scrambling to check on me, and then dosed myself with NyQuil until being rudely awaken by an incessant alarm at 6. But I came downstairs to a candle-bearing scone, a latte from Starbucks and a handmade card from our youngest filled with inappropriate but hilarious words of encouragement.
Once at school, my day only got better. Despite being bullied by my teacher neighbor into a dumb hug, I was inundated by sweet colleagues and students stopping by to wish me HB. And during my prep period, I finally named all 197 countries in less than 15 minutes on Sporcle after an immeasurable number of failed attempts. Take that, Balkans!
I ended my most special of Thursdays with gal-pals and McDonald’s cheeseburgers before hitting two school events, the opening races in a swim meet and then the first half of the annual talent show. I returned home with enough time to chat with Doo, read and respond to the gazillion text messages that had poured in, and be in bed by 9. Perfect.
I turned 51 mid-work week while battling a stupid non-COVID virus. By most accounts, this should have been an obvious do-over. But people bent over backwards to celebrate me, making this birthday was one of the best in a long time.
Peace out.
