The birthday that was

It was my birthday earlier this week, and it was a rather strange one.

For starters, I was PMSing, which meant that there was far more meaningless and uncontrollable crying than I'd care to admit to. All those scenes you've seen in movies where a female character burst into tears for no good reason whatsoever? It's just as frustrating in real life if you're the cryer, to say nothing of how truly baffling it must seem to any cryee(s) present. Thank goodness it lasted only two days.

Then there was the fact that something was definitely wrong with Ink. He kept getting into his kitty litter, scrabbling around and assuming the position to pee --- only to have very little or nothing come out. Rinse, repeat, rapidly within a matter of minutes. Poor boy. I took him to the vet on my birthday (I'd given myself the day off, which made it the only free day I had this week) and she diagnosed him, predictably enough, with a urinary tract infection. The antibiotics seem to have taken effect since, so fingers crossed he doesn't have a relapse or I might be blogging next about how to get a urine sample from a frisky cat.

Finally there was the weirdness that ensues when it seems like everyone's forgotten your birthday. Which, in my PMSing state, I didn't mind at all (and still don't, for the record), but it's just sort of weird anyway. I mean, even my mother --- who called me first thing in the morning to ask about something else entirely --- forgot to wish me happy birthday, as she faithfully does first thing every morning on my birthday (she later SMSed a contrite message of atonement).

Of course, not everyone forgot and it's not like I sat around all day wondering why nobody loved me. Nor am I still wondering about it today. It's just that today I downloaded the above picture of a gargantuan slice of pie (served up at Marché at Vivocity, in case anyone was wondering), which was one of the many decent eats I had on my birthday, which made me think I should blog about the birthday, else this time next year I'll be cracking my head to try to remember what happened.

Anyway, when in doubt on how to end a blog post, I always say look for a Buffy quote. In this case:

Joyce (Buffy's mom): So what'd you do for your birthday? Did you have fun?
Buffy: I got older.
Joyce: You look the same to me. Happy Birthday. I don't have to sing, do I?
Buffy: No.
Joyce: Well, go on, make a wish.
Buffy: I'll just let it burn.

--- "Innocence", Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Note: This is not some kind of poorly disguised passive-aggressive plea for belated birthday messages, nor an attempt to guilt-trip anyone who forgot. Say whatever you like in the comments, but for goodness' sake, don't say "happy (belated) birthday". Thank you!

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