Birthday

So yesterday was my birthday. I am 25. Thus, I have had 25 birthdays. And I cannot remember one stranger than yesterday's.

I don't make a big deal out of birthday's. I ain't special, so the less fanfare, the better. The only nice thing about a birthday is hearing from people and realizing you matter to them - and even that didn't happen yesterday. But here again, it's not that big of a deal, just a mild disappointment.

The whole of the day was just a series of disasters. Apparently my grandfather had chest pains during his morning walk, so he drove himself to the hospital. And even better, he decided not to tell his kids. I found out when my grandmother called to tell me happy birthday - and being the talkative worrywart that she is, she told me all about it. That placed me in the awkward position of having to let other people know that their father was in the hospital and he hadn't felt the need to tell them. I eventually decided to pawn that task off on my mom. I called her with the news and probably ruined her day, and let her tell her siblings.

Then I ate some questionable food for lunch and got the squirts for the rest of the day. I went to all my classes with a glazed over expression, and was so tired by the end of the day that I fell climbing the stairs. And my computer crashed as I attempted to load some music on it.

But I did get some homemade rice krispy treats from a friend.

However, the moral of this story is: thank God birthday's only come once a year, or I'm not sure I could live through them.