So are you officially a grown-up when you not only forget that it's your birthday, but have a hard time remembering exactly how old you are?
I guess turning 30 was a bit noteworthy, for all the normal reasons, but since then I've had a hard time keeping track or mustering a whole lot of excitement about birthdays. I kind of like the idea of being 33, though, as it's symmetrical and all and still on the upslope of 40, so I guess it's been a good birthday so far.
Birthday plans? Umm, working until midnight on the investment house I'm desperately trying to finish up before leaving for Vegas on July 5th? Heh. Sad but true, as I'm in the midst of a crazy last push to get everything but the flooring and furnace repair done before leaving, as that can all happen in my absence.
While that's obviously not the most glamorous way to celebrate one's birthing, and not necessarily where I pictured myself back in the days of yore when I imagined what I would be doing at the advanced, decrepit age of 33, but all in all I can't complain, as there's very, very little I'd change presently, if I had magic changing powers. Other than, you know, not having $302,012,182,193 in the bank and a legion of robot monkeys that shoot lasers out of their eyes to do my bidding.