Hello, Friend,
But wait, there’s more…Birthday Week! Huzzah!
We get it, Lady, you’re old(e.) The world is a raging dumpster fire of literal fire. The falcon cannot hear the falconer. The Overton Window is shattered. 1984 and Brave New World have been relocated to the non-fiction section soon to be joined by The Handmaid’s Tale if the Heritage Society gets their way. The Statue of Liberty is weeping. The Rubicon is fading in the rearview mirror. The coffers are almost empty. The National Parks are being auctioned off for parts. The Tech Bros are preparing to plunge us into an “AI” hallucination driven global economic crisis while they float off in their fancy freaking boats and duly ignore our distress calls. Creeps Ahoy, Matey.
In the grand scheme of it all, what does one little birthday matter?
You were born.
Woopty doo.
Welcome to the human race.
I know, I know, it’s utterly absurd and yet…why not? Why not indulge our whimsy once and a while? Why not a Birthday Weekend or a Birthday Week or a Birthday Month? What better antidote to the malaise?
I make no apologies for my frivolities.
Life is a tragicomical absurdist adventure, starring you! You're the only person exactly like you in the history of the universe. When you think about it that way, your very existence is miraculous.
Saturday is my 63rd birthday and I’m doing my best to wring a little bit of joy out of this week. Why the hell not?
Besides, any excuse for cake is valid in my book.
I have one house to share today, in our general vicinity. Kinda. I think it’s interesting, especially at this price. Ticks off most of our boxes. A bit far for Mr. Potter’s daily commute, but still fun to peruse!
Beware, Shameless Self Promotion Ahead.
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