Birthdays are weird. In these times, when all the things you normally do, or perhaps planned to do, are anything from irresponsible to downright dangerous, they’re even more so. I wrote about turning 40 at length earlier today, I don’t have much to add to that just yet. Other than that it’s a weird day, and it has nothing to do with age or even mortality.

Birthdays has always been weird to me, I verified it by looking at my Day One notes for the past couple of years. These are not days I cherish, because either there’s a lot expected from you, or you expect a lot yourself. Not so this year, pandemics don’t give a shit about nice round numbers that should be joyous celebrations (or bombastic getaways). Which makes it weird, because I guess the universe stole this day from me, and I’ll never get another shot at it.

However , that’s true for every day. I’m keeping a tab, universe. And in the end, every tab is due.

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