Today is my birthday.
The trouble with having your birthday on a weekend, is that there is far less fuss and fan-fare. You see fewer people, so there are fewer congratulations all around. The ones you receive are probably far more sincere, mind you, but there is a certain atmospheric festivity which is decreased by the Sunday celebration.
There was also no cake. It was one of those situations where each person presumed another would have done the cake, so no cake was done. There was dessert, mind you. Just not of the cake variety. I wish I had thought to suggest adding a candle to the strudel. That might worked. Because, if I’m being quite honest, I could use a birthday wish or two.
Not that I could likely blow out a candle per year kind of cake-top bonfire. I’m now of an age where the fire department ought to be on hand for that kind of celebration.