This year, I actually kinda' forgot my own birthday. I'd forget my own name these days if I didn't have to type it in on 800000 things every day. The night before I'd been working really hard to ready my place for the arrival of the bookcases-- shuffling boxes around, trying to order them for ease and importance of unpacking, etc. In doing so, I buried not only about a quarter of my apartment, but also my favorite chair (thus, my fave thinking spot).
I didn't sleep at all that night. My headaches have had a flair-up, which makes it difficult to sleep sometimes. So, when I noticed the sun was coming up, I remembered what day it was. Okay, so my birthday journal was buried in a box somewhere, my favorite chair as inaccessible, but I had my notebook, a spot on the couch, and this moon-filled view as the sun threatened its arrival:
Not a bad way to start any day. And afterward, I got some much-needed sleep.
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