You celebrate your half birthday???

As I mentioned in my previous post, I celebrate my half birthday every year to make up for my actual one which rarely fails to deceive my low expectations. Besides, twelve months is just too long a wait!

I was born mid August, mid summer, a leo supposed to celebrate in warm sunny weather; however, every year precisely on my birthday, wherever I am at that moment, it rains, and I have checked, it only rains where I am. Usually in France in the countryside during that period, I have celebrated twice in Paris and once in Lebanon and believe me when I say it has rained in the exact region I was in when candles were lit, every single year since my 5th. If I recall correctly, my parents had prepared a surprise celebration on that day and upon my return home from my summer day camp, I found a kiddy pool in the garden and little presents on every step leading to my room, bathing suit and accessories spread out on my bed upstairs. I got dressed and came down excited and giddy only to find the garden submerged in water from a sudden summer storm. It may have been the saddest sight I ever beheld as a child. Ever since, I have always celebrated carefully, preparing myself for things that often ended up happening, whether friends getting ill at the last minute to the ice skating rink being closed just on that day to being stuck at work on a Monday with colleagues I had to force a smile for.

Today is my half birthday, and from the looks of it half way in, it’s apparently a year-long curse I suffer from. Cheers!

The clumsy chronicles pt.2

If you’ve been following my ramblings long enough, you’ve probably noticed that I have already talked about how clumsy I can be, but in all honesty, I reach new levels each day and therefore have to update this public diary of clumsiness.

I woke up this morning dreaming of the decadent cake my mum had promised to make for my half birthday, my actual birthday almost always ending up a complete failure due to some bizarre curse – I’ll expand on the subject in another post. So I got up, brewed my coffee, added a splash of milk then toasted a nice big slice of crusty bread and slathered homemade chunky marmalade on top. Breakfast in bed is something I particularly relish in and have had since I was a kid (mostly on weekends), so nothing was really different than my regular habits. My phone’s battery calling my attention, I deposited my plate on my bed and went to plug in the weeping device, then sat on my bed’s side as I took a sip of my comforting warm beverage. Looking around, I couldn’t locate my breakfast which I was certain I had brought to my bedroom. Lightbulb. I get up and realize I had sat on it and the plate I was staring at was, apart from the occasional crumb…empty. My sandwich had gotten stuck on my bum! Furthermore, as I tried to detach the sticky mess from my pyjamas, I inevitably spilled half my coffee on my slippers.

Needless to say I decidedly have no better luck on my half than on my actual birthday, and my clothes have already had more sweets than me today.