Happy Almost...Birthday
I immensely dislike, dread, beg others not to offer and run like heck from birthday parties.
Not your birthday party, my birthday party.
So if I don’t want a party, what do I want? The answer to that has remained the same for over a decade. It’s not so much what I want, it is what I do not want.
I do not want to cook. No chopping, braising, browning, toasting, boiling or any other term related to the culinary arts. I don’t even want to brew the coffee.
I do not want presents. Crazy thought eh? Gifts given mean at some point in time I should not only remember the gift givers birthday, but ought to reciprocate. I am way too forgetful to follow through and hence, end up with a wee bit of remorse. Of course that passes quickly due to my forgetful nature. The only present I desire is a menu and the company of my family.
I do not want to clean, grocery shop, fold laundry, wipe up cat barf, replace the toilet paper roll (When I was not the one leaving an empty roll on the dispenser) flush for others, or do any other daily domestic tasks.
There are those that adore birthday parties. Kids parties are fun. Adult parties are usually the same old stuff. Landmark parties (30, 40, 50, 60 etc.) are an un-imaginative assortment of gifts from “Spencers” or the local adult mart. *yawns*
Others may enjoy announcing their age. I do not. People are silly creatures. They will tell you they never judge a person based on age and yet, due to human nature, thoughts cannot divert from forming opinions. It may be another’s thoughts on your age are actually complimentary but the chances are slim. “She looks good for her age” is followed in thought by, “I wonder if she has had any work done?” I prefer to keep everyone guessing as to my age. Without a tag, it is difficult to be sorted into a nebulas category.
You may be one that assures others as well as yourself that you never base opinions on age. I don’t believe you. It’s not your fault. We are all victims of classification.
Perhaps my dislike of birthday parties stems from childhood. I was born close to Christmas. “Happy birthday Sweetie…pick a present from under the tree” never really made birthdays fun as a kid. Heck, as an adult I have received Christmas birthday presents. A “Happy Birthday” ornament? At one point I vowed to give presents to others based on the closest holiday. Your birthday is in October? I wrap up a string of patio lights with orange bulbs and skull globes. Near Easter? How about a new hat bedecked with pastel plastic flowers. Maybe a case of peeps.
Regardless of how I obtained my dislike for celebrating my own birthday, I will respect yours and any wishes associated. Which reminds me, I will take that cake. Now there is a birthday tradition worth keeping. Skip the candles, no need to share the cake with the local fire department.
Not your birthday party, my birthday party.
So if I don’t want a party, what do I want? The answer to that has remained the same for over a decade. It’s not so much what I want, it is what I do not want.
I do not want to cook. No chopping, braising, browning, toasting, boiling or any other term related to the culinary arts. I don’t even want to brew the coffee.
I do not want presents. Crazy thought eh? Gifts given mean at some point in time I should not only remember the gift givers birthday, but ought to reciprocate. I am way too forgetful to follow through and hence, end up with a wee bit of remorse. Of course that passes quickly due to my forgetful nature. The only present I desire is a menu and the company of my family.
I do not want to clean, grocery shop, fold laundry, wipe up cat barf, replace the toilet paper roll (When I was not the one leaving an empty roll on the dispenser) flush for others, or do any other daily domestic tasks.
There are those that adore birthday parties. Kids parties are fun. Adult parties are usually the same old stuff. Landmark parties (30, 40, 50, 60 etc.) are an un-imaginative assortment of gifts from “Spencers” or the local adult mart. *yawns*
Others may enjoy announcing their age. I do not. People are silly creatures. They will tell you they never judge a person based on age and yet, due to human nature, thoughts cannot divert from forming opinions. It may be another’s thoughts on your age are actually complimentary but the chances are slim. “She looks good for her age” is followed in thought by, “I wonder if she has had any work done?” I prefer to keep everyone guessing as to my age. Without a tag, it is difficult to be sorted into a nebulas category.
You may be one that assures others as well as yourself that you never base opinions on age. I don’t believe you. It’s not your fault. We are all victims of classification.
Perhaps my dislike of birthday parties stems from childhood. I was born close to Christmas. “Happy birthday Sweetie…pick a present from under the tree” never really made birthdays fun as a kid. Heck, as an adult I have received Christmas birthday presents. A “Happy Birthday” ornament? At one point I vowed to give presents to others based on the closest holiday. Your birthday is in October? I wrap up a string of patio lights with orange bulbs and skull globes. Near Easter? How about a new hat bedecked with pastel plastic flowers. Maybe a case of peeps.
Regardless of how I obtained my dislike for celebrating my own birthday, I will respect yours and any wishes associated. Which reminds me, I will take that cake. Now there is a birthday tradition worth keeping. Skip the candles, no need to share the cake with the local fire department.
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