I celebrated my birthday this past weekend. Eh, celebrate might be too strong of word. It was more like endured. I'm very fond of the birthday, not so much the aging.
But we aren't talking about my climbing years.
I've long since passed the age where my birthdays are fun, so when my parents ask what I want for my birthday, I reply with, "Money."
It's not really what I want--I like unwrapping presents as much as the next gal--but money can be put to good use whereas a new purse is a wasted opportunity. As a one income family, we are budgeted down to the air we breathe, so I usually spend the money on things we need.
It's a real blast, I assure you.
|Like shaving your legs with a lawn mower.|
Now, bearing in mind how tight I budget, I've been scrimping and saving for something I've wanted for what feels like forever--a new desk. It's come close a couple of times, then my car rolls over and plays dead so that savings goes into repairs.
|This is my exact reaction.|
But this year, things went differently.
My mama, saint of all things living, called a few days before my birthday and, before I even said hello, blurted out, "Your desk is paid for and waiting for you to pick it up."
Shut the fridge, Martha Frampton.
I don't think I even ended the call before peeling out of my driveway like a cheetah on crack to bring home my new toy to hug it and squeeze it and love it forever!
Was I daunted by the fact it was in a hundred pieces, broken down into two heavy boxes? Nooo, I would lovingly craft that thing into the desk it was meant to be.
Le Husband offered to help, but I chased him from the room with my hammer. Heh. Not really (yes, really). I learned long ago we cannot collaborate on home improvement projects.
He's meticulous and anal.
Clearly, he's the problem.
I put together half while the kids were in school...
|This is approximately when the cursing began.|
and subsequently had to finish with the kids up my butt.
But after hours of gently tapping (hammering the crap out of it), patiently twisting the screws into proper alignment (threading the screws and then hammering the crap out of them), and giving it quiet praise (cursing and threatening it like a Viking with a chip on his shoulder), it was all worth it. My writerly space went from this...
|Cramped office, gently nestled in the smallest corner of Hell.|
|Command center for world domination.|
All in all, it was a fabulous birthday! Have you had a birthday you expected to be meh and it turned out wonderful?