The Birthday Day

After a somewhat impressive sleeping in, my spritely yet cherubic children, with the aid of their suave and capable husband greeted me with a delicious cooked breakfast, and armloads of beautifully wrapped gifts. All of which where to my taste and deepest desires.

Of course, that never happened. I didn’t even dream it. I think I had a dream about spiders instead.

I got up at my usual time, did my usual telling Grumpy Pants to fuck off and stop drinking my coffee and to get his own, just like I do most mornings, and he head off to work. He did say “happy birthday” so that was nice.

He took Monkey Boy with him, whilst I was left at home with Godzilla, incessantly asking if he could play his iPod and watch You Tube, and Chippie who was extremely miffed that I told him I didn’t want a Trash Pack Sewer Dump for my birthday and had a tantrum about it.

After

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