Which I didn't. I actually had a great birthday. Actually, birthweek. Maybe even birthmonth. I do like to celebrate my birthday for a whole month.
"Dan, will you go get me ice cream?"
"Eh, no. Sorry, babe."
"But... it's my birthmonth."
"It's February 2nd."
"Yeah. My birthmonth. Duh."
Sometimes it works, folks. Sometimes.
But really, we did have a great week. Starting over the weekend when our trip to NC got snowed out so instead we dressed up with all my law school friends who were going to Barrister's Ball (we couldn't get tickets last minute) and pre-gamed with them and then stayed at a swanky hotel in DC (oh, the bathtub. the king-size bed). And ordered room service while I pranced around in a cozy hotel robe (which are always better than my personal robe).
The following morning we did brunch with all those same people and drank bottomless mimosas and then promptly took naps. Monday was a holiday which is always a win.
And, then Wednesday. The 19th. My birthday.
I got a surprise birthday dress. I got texts, messages, instagrams and other social media love. I got cookies and sourdough bread and baked goods from friends. Dan bought me Shake Shack and brought it the bar where we proceeded to have a debaucherous night complete with baby guinnesses.
It was a great birthday and the month isn't even over yet.
*My previous post was about how I cry on my birthdays.