I completely, completely forgot that I have birthday coming up in a couple of weeks. I only remembered yesterday when, frustrated with not being able to find black sandals with a sane heel, I decided to buy the new Holly Cole CD and had it in my hands when I realised that I’d mentioned I wanted it in public, on my web log, and with a birthday approaching, I couldn’t safely purchase it.
I knew I had a birthday coming up. I mean, we’ve been discussing the absence of people whom I’d like to count among those to celebrate with, and my birthday is exactly two weeks after my oldest friend’s birthday (mmm, Thai food), and my students have planned a birthday outing for me as well… but it basically slipped my everyday conscious mind.
I’m certain I would have remembered in a rush when I flipped the calendar to July. Perhaps it’s my current obsession with the July 1 concert that’s taking up room that would otherwise be gleefully chanting, “It’s going to be my birth-day, it’s going to be my birth-day…”
To all intents and purposes, I forgot my own birthday. Cake, presents, loved ones.
This is a sign of old age, isn’t it.