Actually, it might look a bit more like this:

That is how it feels this morning, anyway.

I was going to blog yesterday, since it was my birthday and all.  I even had a cheesy title:  “It’s my birthday, and I’ll blog if I want to.”  That was really too cheesy even for my standards.  I’m glad fate intervened and prevented me from doing that.

What did fate have in store for me yesterday, given that the lion’s share of my celebrating was done on Monday?  Well, in the morning I was doing some more tidying for the housekeepers (who should be showing up anytime during the next six hours).  Then my husband showed up and took me to lunch.  Well, first we took Girlfriend to school, and then he took me to lunch.  I ate a gyro as big as my head.  Then he took me shopping for some new clothes because I don’t usually shop for clothes unless he makes me.  When it’s that time of the month and you’re bloated and you’ve just eaten a gyro the size of your head, that’s probably the best time to try on clothes because then you know they will always fit.  So that was fun.  Then I had to pick the kids up from school, and then I had to do some more housework, and then I had to catch up on my Lexulous games on the Facebook, and then it was time to eat dinner and take Princess Zurg on the youth temple trip, which, incidentally, lasted for-freaking-ever.  It was about 9:20 p.m. when we left and they were still going strong.  Anyway, that was my whole birthday–absolutely no time to blog, unless you think that playing Lexulous on the Facebook is not an appropriate birthday activity.  Well, whatever, here I am now.  FORTY.  Plus one day.

I know what you’re all dying to know:  what did your gentle giraffe get for her birthday?  Well, Girlfriend and Elvis got me some new pajamas.  Mister Bubby got me some socks.  He got me something else, too…what was it?  This is embarrassing.  Unless he didn’t get me something else, which makes it still embarrassing but for a different reason.  Well, whatever.  Princess Zurg got me nail polish and another pair of socks.  And Sugar Daddy got me…

A KINDLE!

And he wants you all to know that he bought it “before you whined about it on your blog.”

He knows me better than I know myself.  Actually, what probably happened is that I mentioned I might want a Kindle, and he thought, “Finally, she wants something I can give her!” and immediately went out and purchased one, just like he did when I asked for an iPod two Christmases ago.  (Or was it three?)

Incidentally, he gave my Kindle a lovely lime green cover to match my iPod.  Wasn’t that thoughtful of him?

I also got a $25 Amazon gift certificate to spend on Kindle books, but I haven’t spent it yet.  I’ve loaded my Kindle with free public-domain books, but I haven’t bought any Kindle books yet because suddenly now that money is involved, the purchases are invested with meaning.  What should be the first Kindle book I buy?  Technically, am I “buying” it if I’m using a gift certificate?  Shouldn’t this count as more free Kindle books?  But no, for some reason I am treating this $25 like it’s the last $25 I will ever be allowed to spend on books.  Probably because I still have that stack of actual books that I haven’t read yet.  I should probably not be reminding my husband of this fact at this time.

Up for consideration:

1.  The Miracle Life of Edgar Mint by Brady Udall – because in a few pages I’ll be finished with The Lonely Polygamist, which I have loved.

2.  She’s Come Undone by Wally Lamb – because it’s on my list of books to read and it’s not in my stack of actual books that I already bought but haven’t gotten around to reading yet.

3.  I Know This Much Is True by Wally Lamb – because it might be better than She’s Come Undone?  I can’t remember which one is supposed to be better.

4.  Netherland by Joseph O’Neill – because it’s also on my list of books to read and it’s also not in my stack of actual books that I already bought, etc.

5.  Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman – because I liked The Ice Queen, and she’s written about a billion books and I can’t decide among them.  (TR, you’re an Alice Hoffman fan, aren’t you?  Which one should I choose?)

6.  The Gravedigger’s Daughter by Joyce Carol Oates – because it’s been a while since I’ve read some JCO, and this one is supposed to be good, I think.  JCO is sort of hit and miss–she’s also written about a billion books, and some are great and others are boring.   Dare I take this chance?

7.  Halfway House by Katharine Noel – see numbers 2 and 4.

8.  Room by Emma Donoghue – see number 7.

9.  The Night Season by Chelsea Cain – because I love Chelsea Cain and I love serial-killer books and not everything I read on my Kindle can be so high and mighty as Oprah’s Book Club selections.

Of course, I will also take your suggestions.  Why do you think I’m writing this blog in the first place?

In other news, the backspace key on my laptop is going the way of all flesh.  The hyphen is already almost-shot, and now the backspace key.  What are the odds that my husband will buy me a shiny new laptop with a lime green case for Christmas?  Time will tell.

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