Gigi forgot my birthday, but she sent my niece two presents which makes us think she forgot to flip the calendar and is just living last month over. Perhaps I'll see something at the end of the month . . . or maybe she will have caught up by then.
I called my mother to complain and I realized at the end of the conversation that I wanted to hear her say, "Well, I'm sure she'll make up for it when she's feeling better."
I don't think that's going to happen, but you never know with Gigi.
My life right now feels like a series of little defeats. There's nothing big. No major tragedy or catastrophe, but just when I've caught my breath from the last hurdle, there's another to jump over. (Nice running metaphor, right??) There's a giant infected zit in the middle of my forehead. My hair is especially wonky in my new driver's license photo. My pedicure was smooshed in my new shoes. The coffee machine makes a sick whirring sound which makes me think it's on its deathbed just when I have received a three month back order of coffee in the specialized pods it takes.
It's just one of those small seasons where it's important to focus on the bright side and the things for which I can be thankful; otherwise, the whining could get ugly and I think Cyberspace is still in a pinching mood.
Somewhere in the back of my head I think when I conquer this race on Saturday, everything is going to turn around. My forehead will clear up. My pedicure will be magically fixed and Gigi will be standing at the end with my birthday card.
That's an awful lot to ask of one little race. Maybe I should just focus on getting to the finish line.