Well, it's my birthday and, once again, it is shaping up to be a big bust.

I have always been a big birthday-celebrator. Over the past several years, though, I've been thwarted in my plans for my own natal day. A number of times Robert has had to spend the day working at one job or another. This year it looks like it will be no different. He was due back tomorrow afternoon but the guy covering all his stuff Friday pulled out today at the last minute and he likely won't be able to find anyone else which means he now won't be home until late Friday night (nearly two weeks since I last saw him, by the way).

I'm not excessively distraught or anything. It's gotten to a point now where it's almost humorous to sit back detachedly and see how the day will manage to end up a non-event in any given year. I am beginning to come to expect something to crop up and foil my plans so when Robert said he would be home for most of the day I took it with a healthy dose of skepticism.

I knew that a lot of people, as they age, place less importance on birthdays. However, I always thought that it was their choice. I didn't realize it might be everyone else facilitating it!

Madalyn's Open House at school is tomorrow so that (and cleaning my living room and kitchen) will be my birthday fun. I may take us all out to eat afterward. Or, I may not. In general I like solitude but there is something slightly pathetico about taking oneself to a birthday dinner which would be spent, like all other dinners, corralling unruly children and bolting my food so we can get out of there before someone breaks something.

Eh. So maybe I'm a little bummed. And jaded; don't forget jaded. Not to mention old.