It is now, technically (here in France, anyway) my birthday. I am 42 years old. This is a number that actually doesn't scare me - in fact, it makes me think of Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (a book that I read many, many times as a teenager) in which we learn (thanks to the computer Deep Thought and it's 7.5 million years of cogitation) that the Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe and Everything is 42. Unfortunately, the Question itself has been lost (God, I loved this book...)...
There was also, once, a lifetime ago, a British band called Level 42 (named after the aforementioned Answer), and they were the very first band I ever saw play live. Check them out (this was one of their biggest hits). How's that for useless information?
So, yeah. Turning 42 just doesn't have the negative feel to it that, say, turning 40 had. Except of course that it means I'm another year older.
And still single.
And still broke.
And still staying up ridiculously late every night and fucking up my days as a result.
As for today, well, the "plans" I had have mainly gone down the toilet: I was going to do a roast chicken for lunch (a popular - and rare - occurrence chez Magic) and then the girls were going to make a cake for me, all by themselves. Of course, my oven broke irredeemably on Sunday night, so I bought a new one on line and paid a small fortune for a rush-job delivery, promised today (17th) before 1 pm.
It didn't come.
And the asshole delivery guy put "doesn't live at this address" as the reason. Which is, of course, total and utter crap. I was here till 2.30 pm and they didn't come. I phoned up the place I bought the oven from, complained long and loud, and have been promised it'll come tomorrow. But that's too late - I'll be out quite a bit of the day (it's a WEDNESDAY, which means no-school-and-lots-of-activities for the girls) so you can bet it'll come when we're not home. And even if it comes when we ARE here, there'll be no time for roasting chickens or baking cakes. So that'll be my 2nd birthday in a row with no cake (that makes me sound so childish, I know. But come on. It's my BIRTHDAY. I want a CAKE. I was even willing to make one myself, but now can't. Sniffle).
My new "plan" is to go out for lunch, but we don't have much time, what with one activity finishing at 11, then homework, and the next starting at 2, but it should be possible.
At least this year I know the girls haven't forgotten, despite their attempts at subterfuge with D this evening.
I'm pretty sure this birthday will be better than last year's. I'm certainly in a better place, personally. I'm stronger, more confident, more resilient, more at peace. That doesn't mean life is good, exactly, and I do remain more lonely than I could ever imagine possible, but I'm starting to come back to life a little.
Happy Birthday to Me!