February 17, 2012: Existential Momisms.

            Today is my mother’s birthday. She’s 134 years old.

            Todd made a nice lunch, and he and Mom and Dad and I ate in the formal dining room off the good china. I am not proud of the fact that, rather than making Mom a cake, I bought her one at the bakery. Hey, I’m on deadline.

            Mom had a nice time. She opened her presents, and then I ran and hid them in the clothes dryer, because otherwise she would have kept discovering them and then asking, “Where did these come from?” and insisting that we’d “spent too much.”

            She blew out all three candles.

 Thing I Hate Today: I blew my diet eating shitty bakery cake.


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