(no subject)

I've decided I'm finally going to turn 38. See, last July we were in the height of a pandemic, and literally nothing fun was open so it didn't really make much sense to celebrate. It was also around that point of the quarantine I refer to as time soup, when it all seemed like this amorphous blob of one day melting into the next, even to the point it was hard to think of anything I wanted. I was probably a wee bit depressed (weren't we all), and as the only people locally I'm really close to are the Kid and Chava (her mum) and they were all a train ride away, it was hard to even get together and celebrate.

So because I am nothing if not overly rational, I just didn't have a birthday. I told myself I'd have a celebration in whatever month things opened up again. I honestly thought it would be August or September at the latest, but that obviously didn't work out. HOWEVER, I will be exactly nine months into my thirty-eighth year this next Monday, and the museums are open again. They're closed on Mondays but I nabbed some tickets to the National History Museum for Wednesday next week, and so the three of us are all going to play hookie and watch IMAX documentaries bout planets in deep space and look at woolly-mammoths and whatnot, and probably get some kind of cake at one of the newly opened to indoor dining delis.

All appropriately socially distanced from other groups, wearing our masks, etc. The NHM is even within a long walk of my current plac so I won't have to brave the buses. So it's a pandemic cheat day, but not too much, and by golly we need one at this point so we can go back to being responsible for a while longer. That's what I tell myself anyway.

So a very happy early un-birthday to me (to you?) to me. And the rest of you all as well.