Wednesday
Oct122005

« Happy Fuggin' Birthday »

To "celebrate" my 32nd birthday today, I awoke bright and early at 6:45 and did my usual morning routine in the dark and total silence, as always. I eschew TV, radio, and other input in the morning because that short period before work is the only time I ever get in a day when I have that much control over what enters my brain. My dear wife gave me a cute stuffed piggy before she left at 4:45 am to go to school up in Claremont. She has been my main provider of stuffed piggies through the years, as well as other pork-a-phenalia.

Then I left at 7:40—again, as usual—and clocked in at 7:52. Worked all fucking day but for a brief bit of shuteye during lunch after I ate some tasty leftover lasagna from Sunday night's peak oil meeting with Graeme Elliott at the local Italian joint. Worked overtime as expected. Got off work at 6:08. The precise times actually allow for a bit of timeclock massaging, with the loophole plain as day and provided by the company. Were I to clock in a minute later and clock out a minute earlier, I would lose 30 minutes of overtime. But since this week was such a grind, they did anticipate it and pretty much expect us to work overtime. I told them earlier that there were two nights a week I couldn't do, and weekends. I have perfectly good reasons. But my birthday fell on Wednesday, which was not one of my exceptional nights, so I got to spend the extra hour and some change doing a last minute drive to the convention center during rush hour. Just as I was doing the last loading for the day, Kelli hit me with a barrage of phone calls and messages which I could not get as they came in. Some comments were made about my birthday being on the day. Our receptionist Shannon made it a point to wish me well on three occasions as she came into the shop, which is rather rare. She is rather like sunshine in that dismal cave of a shop.

Then after work, in my grubby T-shirt and jeans, I went to my birthday dinner at Costco where the polish dogs and pizza provide a filling, starchy dinner to get me by. My birthday cake was one of their berry sundaes. Yum.

Feet hurting, hair messed up, dirty, and sore all over, it was time to go home and clean up. The high point of the night, apart from hearing from Kelli a couple times was a repeat viewing of American Beauty which somehow quietly crept up to being one of my favorite movies of all time. One last talk with Kelli, this blog, and its off to bed I go, ready to start over tomorrow, except no stuffed piggy awaiting me on my desk. This weekend, I may have some sort of shindig with Kelli and whatever she might put together for the day. My last few birthdays have been far more notable with her in the picture, otherwise, today was sort of a reminder of what it was like for a number of years before she turned up.

Thirty two. Thirty fucking two. I never thought I would make it. If anyone asks, I would like Borders gift cards, and survival gear, and heirloom seeds for vegetables. Oh, and I'd like my old house back. I hate this apartment.

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