“Happy Birthday to me,” you said, pattin’ yerself on yer back. Like it’s some kinda big thing to live another year.
Really? Well, in my experience, that’s kinda one of them Oh Shit! things!
Iffen yer anywhere near to ol’ fossilhood as I be, the only part of that damned day I celebrate is the very first moment when I wake, bladder screamin’ at my knobby complainin’ knees to MOVE IT! GAWDAMIT! before my wore-out bladder valve leaks and I embarrass myself. Again. And then the remembrance of what day it is: Again. Shee-it! Didn’t that just happen? Only a year ago? Yeh… it did. So what?
Systems check: pain, check. blurry vision, check. put hand to mouth, check for warm air. Warm air? EXHALE, asshole! Oh, yeh, warm air, check!
Okay, go piss. Waddle into the kitchen. Two scoops of coffee grounds to make a single cup of black brew, use brew water from glass bottle with FDA/EPA/STATE-mandated chlorinated, flouridated, de-arsenicated, certified, validated, city water delivered via randomly leaking city pipes intermittently-infiltrated via toxic storm water polluted groundwater. Antique glass milk jug filled & stood on counter overnight to evaporate that shit off. Hopefully. Ok, Sludge, you’ve held it together this far. Quit’cher bitchin. Just pour it, dammit.
Sip the brew & burn the livin’ bejezus out of my lip. Yet another fuckin’ birthday means I’m even more clumsy with the old age palsy: unable to drink coffee without scaldin’ the shit out of my self.
Oh … Happy Birthday! May you endure many more.