Thanks for all the birthday wishes, you. It's been a bit of an odd one. I'm not quite sure why. Perhaps it's because I awoke at 2:30 am and laid in bed worrying. Concerns of a hypochondriac, mostly.
I was preoccupied with my heartbeat and wondering why it fluttered so. I puzzled why I've felt so tired and nauseated and slightly off the last few days. Then Fruit Bat came thundering down to our room whimpering that he'd just had a dream about losing a finger (my fault for relaying a story about my grandfather's abbreviated digit--lawn mower accident).
Anyway, it was a weird early morning.
I let Fruit Bat sleep in. We were 20 minutes late for preschool and guilt taunted me for letting him rest, but hindering his social integration into class.
Then, J.'s mom, who is here for two weeks, Kitty Cat and I went for breakfast. That was fun. That was normal.
I have a glorious, glorious sitter right now for four hours. I decided to do a little shopping at Pier One because one of my fondest birthday memories, oddly, is of leaving work early on a December 19th about 12 years ago, shopping at Pier One and then lounging around my apartment until party time that night (Back before party time meant toppling into bed and losing myself to a book).
This day though, at Pier One, the sparkle and music and magnitude of stuff made me dizzy. I did buy a few small things. Afterward, I came to Cupcake Royale, about which I've mentioned my admiration before, thinking: dim lights, hushed voices, lots of people on laptops.
But Dear Schnauzer, it is sensory overload. Loud U2ish tunes, thousands of people, voices rising like a helix into the frosting-scented air.
After this post I think I might leave early. Perhaps meditate in my car.
I sometimes wish my birthday fell in sunny July and not so close to the coldest, darkest day of the year. But it is only two days away from the Winter Solstice. And in it, I have to find some cheer. While suppressing thoughts of serious sickness that want to revolve around my brain like little moons.