"It's my birthday," I said, twirling around the room with my roll of toilet paper trailing behind me. I know it's a little early to be celebrating my own birthday, but I can't help it.  I'm still up, and it's just after midnight.

I promise I'll be going to bed soon...I'm still fighting with the flu, but I fed it a glass of red wine, so it might have a little fight still in it.

Back to my birthday...

Have I ever mentioned how much I like my birthday?  I like getting birthday wishes...I like getting presents (even little ones)...and I like that the whole world celebrates my birthday.  But being a New Year's Eve baby hasn't always been as exciting as many people seem to think. 

When I was a child, it was hard to get anyone to come to my birthday parties because their parents were celebrating in a completely different way...and when I had children of my own, I could never find a babysitter. And I suppose it's lucky that I'm not a big party person, but I never remember to make dinner reservations, so we end up eating someplace boring or at home. 

If I get there early enough, there might be a table at Waffle House...

But how can I really complain when I am lucky enough to have parents that have always made a point of separating my birthday from Christmas, despite the close proximity? 

I don't know exactly what tomorrow has is store for me yet, but I hope it will be a good birthday, and a wonderful New Year.  If I'm lucky, I might even get cake. 

I think I deserve it after being sick for so long.

Until the next time...I'll be a year older and hopefully, at least a fraction wiser!