Friday, February 27th marked my 52rd birthday.
Let’s just say on the Birthday Meter, this one registered about a minus three.
Such is my life…and it started out with such great promise. My birthday present from my BFF arrived containing a nifty shirt, pencils and books from the Newseum as well as another emergency chocolate bar to replace the one I ate earlier this month. (You can read about that crisis here.)
So Friday, I donned my nifty new “Got freedom?” Newseum t-shirt, sharpened my Newseum pencils and stashed them in my pocket and drove on to school. I even zipped through Starbucks to purchase a grande non-fat, three raw sugar latte in celebration of my birthday.
It pretty much went downhill after that. Here’s my list…
Item #5… Right before first period started, I promptly spilled my grande non-fat, three raw sugar birthday latte all over the floor by my classroom. (On a positive note, my hallway smelled like Starbucks for the rest of the day. On a sad note, the smell was a constant reminder of my missing grande non-fat, three raw sugar birthday latte.)
Item #4…I left my emergency chocolate bar at home (which, of course, I needed after spilling my grande non-fat, three raw sugar birthday latte all over the floor by my classroom).
Item #3…I discovered that my new yoga instructor was actually my yearbook editor a gajillion years ago and that her daughter will soon be attending my high school and will probably sign up for yearbook. That little ditty all translates into one of two things: Numero Uno– I’m really getting old because I’m moving into teaching a second generation, or Numero Two-oh–my former yearbook editor must have started having children when she was like 10 years old. I think I’m going with Numero Two-oh. I don’t care what you say.
Item #2a…I discovered that my yearbook staff forgot about six pages. “Forgot?” you ask. Yes siree, Missy. Forgot as in…Hmmmm… never created…never assigned… Nothing. Nadda. Zilch. Zippo. Well, you get the picture. And, of course, this little fact was exacerbated by Item #4.
Item #2b…I didn’t leave school until after 5 p.m. on my birthday. And the yearbook staff? Why they were nowhere in sight, and neither was Item #4.
And, drum roll pah-leese…
The No. 1 reason my birthday sucked…After 149 years and 311 days, the Rocky Mountain News folded on my birthday. People who know me would understand why this would be a source of angst. Read about my despair by going here.