44 and a day

For the pessimist.. big deal.
For the cynical.. same ol' shit, different day.
For me.. it was just another day.
My eldest woke me with a haphazard version of that dreaded tune..before I could jump in the shower, his bus was at the gate and he was out the door. I took my youngest to school like I do every weekday morning, dropped him off and headed straight back
home.. usually I do a little marketing first, but for some reason, I just didn't feel like it. I guess the knowledge of leftovers did it for my lazybone. Our help of seven years left for greener pastures as a DH in Hong Kong, so we've been on our own for more than a month now. I have someone come by twice a week to clear the debris, but Monday wasn't one of those days, which explained the pile of unwashed dishes in the kitchen sink and the growing pile of soiled linen in the hamper. A few token Natal text messages into the morning and I'm off to a great start.. an old Radio colleague.. my friend Pogz.. ho-hum.. I rummage for some breakfast and settle for some bacon and reheated rice, slumping infront of the bedroom TV, lackadaisically wolfing it down between gulps of iced Mountain Dew.. the breakfast of champions. Today's my birthday.. and I'm forty-four years old.

No surprise morning gifts or special breakfasts.. no cheery Mom nor Dad to send you off into the day, that's my job now.. no candles.. no cake.. no nothing.. gee, am I that jaded and cynical, or am I just destined to roam this Earth in this lonely island-like manner? Am I just feeling sorry for myself, pitying the poor boy in the mirror? Maybe I deserve it, for all the missed Birthday greets I failed to send out in the past.. they've finally come back to haunt me.. I am suddenly reminded of my friend, whose name I shall not mention here, who runs a private Ad business here, with several friends under his employ; a very small, informal cowboy-ish office that's been doing pretty well against the big, ugly corporations.. for several years, our mutual friends, have always invited me to a surprise party they always seem to throw for my good friend, their "boss.." and for several years now, I've envied my friend of this annual treat bestowed upon him, almost like clockwork.. sometimes I wonder if he's every surprised at all, after so many of them.. sometimes I wonder why it's never happened to me.. maybe I'm just not the type of person people would consider throwing a surprise Birthday party for.. I am not exactly the kind of person who's friends with everyone.. I've pissed off and hurt quite a few in my time, and I've been in that chair not a few times myself, so I guess everything cancels itself out, one way or another. But don't get me wrong, I'm happy for my good friend. We get envious at times, I guess.. it's human nature, and I'm all but too guilty of such.

Back to my bacon and rice, my soda, my boring cable channel and my boring Birthday.. I'm torn between sulking like a dateless li'l girl on Prom night and passing it all off as harsh reality.. I opt for the latter, rifling through stacks and stacks of cheapo DVDs collected over the years, now doing their own collecting.. dust. Better to keep my mind free of any Natal anxiety, and what better way than delving into the imaginary world of a DVD.. when suddenly, I sense some barely audible tapping on our rusty old gate.. hmmm, bill collector's early, I thought, as I walk barefoot to the living room window, peeking through the closed drapes.. this is one sexy bill collector, I surmise, seeing black pumps instead of dirty sneakers through the gate's bottom grills, as I open the front door and make for the gate door. A quick peek brings a quick draw of breath.. lo and behold, it's my girlfriend, smiling through the gate's small peephole.. guess there is a God.

And I did have a Happy Birthday after all..