Besides making an exception for all the days that are dedicated to Christmas, I nominate this day (the 13th of July) as my most cherished one. I have been running around like a mad dog every time someone mentioned a present and I have been plotting and scheming about where they might be hiding them. Yes, I behave like an actual child when it comes to my birthday, and no, I do not intend to change that. Similarly, I have requested in my list -where I have stated all my wishes and desires for this special day- that I would want as many balloons as the house could possibly hold. My loving boyfriend did indeed purchase at least 50 balloons, though appears sufficiently unable to help provide the air needed to inflate these miniature rubber zeppelins. It has fallen onto me, the burden of supplying the room with the festive necessities, though I won’t say I am unhappy doing it.
On the list was also a bottle of Glenfiddich, which I received, and an incredibly fluffy bathrobe, which I received, and a lovely emerald play-suit, which I received, and a dog, which I did not receive, though frankly, that was wishful thinking to begin with. All in all, I feel rather content with my birthday so far, and soon I will be celebrating my quarter- of – a- century with friends and wine and Glenfiddich and balloonyness.
As Yoda would say: A party it is, that you desire!