According to Alice in Wonderland, if I’m not mistaken, any day that is not your birthday is your “unbirthday”, and is worthy of celebration. But that kind of sounds like work to me. So I pick the day that is 6 months away from my birthday, and celebrate that as my “official” unbirthday. On that day, I give myself gifts and/or I pamper myself. I celebrate the very “me-ness” of me.
But this unbirthday is going to be very special, indeed, because it will be the first night that my dog Quagmire and I will get to sleep in my brand new (to me) house! Granted, I’ll still have a few more days of moving, and, let’s face it, probably years of unpacking, and the place will probably be a shambles, with boxes everywhere, but still… I’ll be in my home.
Do you get the significance of that? After years of being at the mercy of landlords with their arbitrary rules, and sometimes their outright cruelty at worst and personality disorders at best, I will be free. Free to make a home of my own. That night I will lie in my bed and look up at the ceiling. My ceiling. And I’ll reflect on how stressful it has been to get to this point.
And I’ll be proud of myself. Because I did it. I made it. And with any luck, I’ll never have to freakin’ move again.
And I’ll probably order pizza delivery, eat it while taking a bath in my nice big tub, and give Quagmire a few extra treats. Because I can. And because God knows we’ll have earned them.
Happy unbirthday to me!
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