Worst Birthday Ever

OK so I know this blog isn't about me...

Tuesday I turned 31, and it was the worst birthday ever. It started out pretty well: my son wished me happy birthday right away, my wife gave me some excellent winter workout gear, my family called me bright and early. As soon as I got to work, all down hill.

I guess I shouldn't complain. I have mentioned perspective before in this space and this seems to be completely out of focus. But for some reason this year it really got to me. Now don't get me wrong - I practically had a breakdown last year for 30, I am not trying to hide that fact. But this birthday was much worse.

Work was just crazy stressful: a lot going on; things taking longer to complete than necessary; meetings; unreturned phone calls/emails.

On the bright side my mom sent me a delectable cheesecake. Unfortunately the mail room failed to take the time to deliver it to me, and I had to take time out of my already hectic afternoon to go over there and get it. Love the idea that "REFRIGERATE IMMEDIATELY" yields little more than a phone call a few hours later. Remind me not to put "FRAGILE" on anything coming in or out of our mail room. The cake was consumed. I had a small piece the following day.

But here is where the "Worst Birthday Ever" title was secured: we had to admit Molly to the hospital at about 6 pm. Nothing to be too concerned with; it was a planned procedure. But we got a whopping two hours notice, and we were supposed to go out to dinner. I spent the last six hours of my birthday in a cramped, old hospital room witha tiny little TV. I know, I am a whiner. More on the actual things people care about in the next post.