Image from Pixabay.com
Yesterday was my 79th birthday, and I thought it arrived much quicker than usual. Time is whizzing past us now, and getting anything done gets more challenging every day.
We are so far behind on almost every front and have accepted that we can never really catch up, so new ways of adjusting to the workload must be found.
The small voice at the back of my head insists that we should be grateful to be capable of doing anything these days.
That is right, but that doesn’t make it acceptable.
Back to the birthday.
In our house, we have a custom on birthdays. We must only do the things we wouldn’t mind repeating for the rest of the year. This is much harder to implement than you think, but we still try.
Ignoring the housework comes easy, something I have been practising for ages. LOL…
No arguments, angry words or sticky, frustrating situations.
The diet can take a walk; this is your day.
Be your best, shower, wash your hair, and wear your best clothes. It is just for one day, after all…
I had to use the computer to ensure its presence for the rest of the year but limited myself to the basics. On the same theory, I spent an hour with the WIP, adding spice to the outline.
Next was the family visitation, birthday cake, cards and happy conversation…
Weatherwise, it was a brilliant day. The sun was welcoming, so a little gardening was necessary. Nothing drastic, just a little planting and tidying up.
My day had turned out quite well, I thought. These are just two instances that tried to upset the apple cart.
On the phone with an absent family member, I described my day and the lovely pink birthday cake. I was instantly corrected by one and all, saying the cake was blue. The senility angle reared its ugly head along with my hackles. I tried not to mind; these things often happen when you get to my age.
Later, while gardening, rather than asking for help, I lifted a far too heavy rock and carried it some distance. Not something I care to repeat, so that was silly.
I managed to reverse the first of these instances.
The remains of the cake were in the kitchen cupboard, and I desperately wanted to look. But what if it was blue? How would that make me feel?
Eventually, I did look, and it was pink.
I will remember the red faces of my family when I showed them the cake. Very gratifying!
Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes 
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