Okay, I know the clock has not officially run out, but I think we can call it. My husband forgot that today was my 38th Birthday (Or as I like to call it: my 10th 29th Birthday). I have spoken to him twice in the last hour and not ONCE has he said the Magic Words. He has not even hinted that he remembers.
And you wonder why I am freaking out about forty? Because 40 might be a rerun of the last few years and that would be awful.
HIGHLIGHTS OF THE LAST FEW DAYS:
According to recent news reports, senior citizens are having way more sex than I am.
In the words of my son, upon hearing how old I am, "You're almost as old as the Queen!" He means Queen of England. I understand that to a 7 yr old, the difference between 38 and say, 82 or so, is negligible, but for a woman who is way younger than the late Princess Diana, being compared to the Queen is, well you do the math.
Digital camera stolen -- along with all relevant memories of last six months of children's lives (please don't e-mail me about regular downloading -- does anyone do that????).
Holy Crap! moment in front of mirror when I realize favorite sundress of summer gives pedestrians a Brittany Spears sort of view of my tush when I bend over (for the record, I don't go commando, but panties are small). And no one said a thing all summer. Must put house on market immediately.
Mother called drunk to wish me Happy Birthday (sad, but probably reason why more senior citizens are having sex than I am).
Found liver spots on arms.
Low/high point of day: briefly considered ramming Range Rover of cute 40 something man who smiled at me in the traffic circle. But, you guessed it, didn't want to be late for THE SCHOOL RUN.
Someone please save me. The countdown clock is still running and I have really got to start doing things differently.
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