I finally got around to answering all the comments. Thank you again for all your well wishes. I wish I could say I was miraculously cured, but alas, I’m about the same. The simplest things are absolutely exhausting. I fell asleep after cooking breakfast yesterday because it wiped me out. Sigh.

Tomorrow is my birthday. What a way to spend your birthday! But alas, my birthdays are always cursed. My birthdays are so bad, both Steve and I look at each other with fear when we wake up on my birthday. What hideous atrocity or act of God will happen THIS time? It took him a few years to be convinced. But after 3 or 4 of them, he confidently announced one year”Your birthdays are cursed.” Duh.

I try to delay getting out of bed on my birthday, but it’s a fine line. The bed could spontaneously combust. Or the ceiling cave in. You’re laughing because you’ve never been around for one of my birthdays. You have no idea the freak accidents that happen. It’s worse than any Friday the 13th, EVER.

I think I know WHY they are cursed. It’s because I was born on my mother’s birthday. She spent her 24th birthday giving birth to me and I’m sure at some point screamed out some curse. You know, like the other mother curse that ALWAYS comes true: I hope you have kids JUST LIKE YOU?! Both those curses are permanent and binding. They can not be broken. And the accumulated bad juju of the curse just keeps going until you’ve never seen the likes of a curse so hideous. No priest, no shaman, or witch will touch it. EVERYONE is scared of it. Even the Pope.

I forgot where I was going with this. I’m sure I had a point somewhere along the way, but frankly, I’m hungry and exhausted from sitting here. I need to rest and try to summon the energy for whatever tomorrow may bring. ;)