I was not too impressed with my birthday week this year. It kicked off with a pricy vet visit (is there any other kind?) and ended with a pricy tire change (is there any other kind?). I also worked on my birthday for the first time in decades, thus violating one of my few principles: Never Work on Your Birthday.
On Thursday, I wasted a perfectly good birthday by working for 11 hours and getting the front two tires replaced on Wednesday (Jessica named my car for her favorite Addams Family character). Between the tires and the alignment, it was close to another $500, which begs the question of why I can come up with $1,000 for vet bills and tires, but not for, say, a trip to Hawaii.
There was a fire south of the scenic cemetery in Little River on my birthday afternoon, and even close to 7 pm, it was a one lane road with a line of cars inching along. When I finally got home, I found a check from the jobette and a bill for my car registration, which exactly canceled each other out.
I woke up on Saturday morning with spasming lower back pain that continues to torture me even as I write, while giving me a preview of the old age I am rapidly hurtling toward. Talk about adding injury to insult!
There’s always next year.
A YEAR AGO: The birthday disaster last year was an out of season power outage.