Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Progamming

Yesterday was so nice. I got to use my birthday as an excuse to not do a damn thing. AND, even BETTER, to make A. do things FOR me. Sweet.

I woke up far too early considering we had been out until almost midnight the night before. I started to creep out of the bedroom, and A. sort of half woke up and said, "Oh wait. It's your birthday. I have to make you breakfast." But I was nice enough to tell him to go back to sleep. Even on my birthday, I am the soul of courtesy. But then, a couple of hours later, I forgot about courtesy and ran back into the bedroom, jumped on the bed, and announced, "It's my birthday! Get up! I want some breakfast!"

Then A. hid under the covers and mumbled something along the lines of, "Thank God this only happens once a year."

But he did haul himself out of bed and make me breakfast. Then I opened my presents (and I don't care how greedy this sounds, I must say that I LOVE getting presents). Then we went to the dump. Even on my birthday, I cannot escape the Saturday dump run. But A. gathered all the trash, a task which normally falls on me.

Then, because it was pouring rain, blowing wind, and muddy and flooding all over the place, I elected to get a girly movie from the library ("P.S. I Love You"--pretty good) and sit on my ass inside for the afternoon. I did not make A. watch the movie with me, however. And I know he's grateful, because you should have seen his face when he saw what I picked out. He was nice enough to ask, "Do you want me to watch this with you?" But his relief when I told him that wasn't necessary was noticeable not only in the expression on his face, but in the contrails he left behind racing out the door to get away from the estrogen-fest.

Then we got dressed up and drove 40 miles to an Italian restaurant where we ate and drank far too much, and I got my leftovers in a tinfoil swan. I have ALWAYS wanted to go to a restaurant that packages leftovers up in the shape of a bird.

My dreams are modest.

I also did not do any dishes yesterday. A. didn't either, but he's doing them right now, because how punk-ass would it have been to leave them until today and then remind me it's not technically my birthday anymore, and so I could do them? Too punk-ass, and I'm sure such a thing never crossed A.'s mind.

I still have my birthday cake to look forward to, because the MiL left yesterday for a trip and will be making it when she gets back in about a week. Maybe I should insist that we continue the celebration ALL WEEK LONG.

No. I think that would be the end of A.