thirtysomething

Friday was my birthday. No, I didn't spend the day snorting crack off my dog's rump (too furry, for starters). Yes, I did (predictably) go home. Because I am a sad, very broke individual with no friends my age living within a 600 mile radius of my person.

I spent My Birthday with my mom, doing Post Move errands. Basically I drove her around Jacksonville, because she's been up for about three weeks straight, Moving Stuff, Packing Stuff and Unpacking Stuff. You see my parents bought this Rilly Nice New House, and they just moved in, so I went to visit them and watch my mother Put Away Stuff all weekend long. That was pretty much my birthday entertainment.

Oh, that and:

I finished another baby kimino from Mason Dixon Knitting for Pregnant Person #3 on my unit (quit. procreating. people.) and two washcloths, both of which went to the New House. I also had a margararita and a Corona (on different days).

I'm telling you, I lived large this weekend.

So yey, thirty. You're predictable, boring and live with your parents. Or aspire to, at any rate.