When I was growing up, my birthday always landed in this unfortunate time after Christmas where it almost seemed like it was supposed to be a part of the holiday season—but wasn’t.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad my birthday was and has always been far enough away from Christmas to not be lumped in with it, but the main thing that bothered me with where it landed was that I was always in school. And barely.
My entire life, I’ve begun semesters the week before my birthday, the day before, and in some cruel, twisted turns of fate, I’ve begun them day of. It’s horrible and a horribleness a kid born in July will never know, but there’s a silver lining now that I’m older, that being this: I can take the day off for my birthday now, which I did and am doing today. Glory be the freedom of adulthood!
Oh, and what will I be doing today, you ask? Probably, and quite literally, nothing—and it will be absolutely marvelous.