In the Pink

It may have caught your attention, gentle reader, that i am no longer as present on this wonderful site as once I was.

The NSFW-ness of the site has finally been noticed by the IT Powers-That-Be and has been banned from access by anyone with our work IP address.

Which sucketh, big time.

Anyhoo. Today is my birthday. Yay me! Another year older, and with any luck, another year wiser. My age, which I don't care about on an existential level, is nudging at my vanity in a finger-poke-y sort of way, and my vanity cares for this not one whit.

I'm happier now, than I was when I was younger. While there are doubtless more things I need to learn, modify and fix before I am supremely all-time happy (on a personal level -- not that all the ducks will ever be simultaneously lined up) I am in a much much better place now than once i was.

Thank goddess.

However, the numbers are freaking me out. I look at the number in cold and stoney black-and-white, and my heart skips a beat, falls over and breaks its hip. I feel as though it is the chronologically numerical equivalent to falling asleep on the bus, and missing my stop. And it's an intercity bus, by the way. And now it will be a fucking nightmare to get home, stuck as I am in some godforsaken butt-fuck neighbourhood in the dusty dead-end part of the city.

I'm stretching the metaphor a little, but you get my drift, right?

The practical upshot of all this is that my vanity has part won through, but has been discombobulated by my latent and utterly daft sense of humour, resulting in my now claiming my age to be "re-XX". Absurd? Yes. Me? Completely.

But I don't care. I have reached the kind of inner acceptance where I am at peace with whatever decision I make -- which believe me, from one who holds an Olympic Gold medal in Procrastination (*not* procreation, thank you very much) -- is an achievement and a half.

I spent the day muchly in my birthday suit, with the one who has helped guide me towards said inner peace, also in his. It was beyond wonderful.

One request -- stay in my life over the next year? Please? It's been a great day, and I've loved every minute of it -- but none so much as rushing home to write out my feelings for your reading pleasure.

Mazal tov to me! XX years young... again.

😄

As always, comments, felicitations, mazal tovs and other congratulatory epithets are welcome -- nay, desired -- in the comments section.

Danke schoen.