Birthday

I hate my birthday.  I get depressed,  I want it to be over. Every year. Been that way since I was a kid.

This year didn't go as I was told it would. Bill tried but things didn't work the way he planned.  

It was still nice before and after,  just not the day of. The day of I pretty much just did all the chores and wished it was bedtime. I'm recouping from a lack of sleep and a tummy irritation,  not huge mood boosters. 

So Bill let me pick out an ottoman....

which I really need for my back and heel.  Plus with the storage I can keep a blanket for my use because the cats will use every single blanket in the house if you let them. 

Then there's the books, used, that he let me pick out. I'm especially drawn to this one from 1909.

And then there's the kids, who were great and surprised me with a very beautiful card...

Fridge magnets that I get to decorate myself....

 A very pretty plaque.....

 lunch....and a walk through the park, which meant the most because I miss my walks so very much. 

And I got a good picture of an orb spider on our screen...

plus a bonus picture of the cats all lined up the other night...

I appreciate everything my Bill Dear did to try to make it a good birthday,  and especially the kids for making me feel special. 

It's nice when the one day of the year that supposed to celebrate you, actually celebrates you.  😊