We celebrated Tom’s 26th birthday a couple of days ago. I love birthdays, I know it’s not ‘cool’ to like birthdays anymore, but I do. Mine and other people’s. I’ve said it before about Christmas, that a lot of people just want a tradition as an excuse to show each other some extra attention and affection. Unfortunately, everyone seems to have their birthday in March except me. We call them ‘midsummer children’ in Sweden. If you thought that ‘midsummer children’ sounded a bit like ‘indigo children’ or anything spiritual/hippy, I’m sorry to disappoint you. It basically applies to the overwhelming amount of children who are conceived on midsummer’s eve, when Swedes get drunk and fuck around. Not as cute as “Valentine’s children”, I suppose.
Anyway, I had to work a morning shift on the day of his birthday, so I went up at 5 am and inflated some balloons and decorated before having my breakfast. I put a card on the table saying which present could be opened in the morning and that there was a surprise breakfast in the fridge in a white bag. Unfortunately, I forgot to tell him to read the card when he woke up, which ruined the surprise. Once I got home, I ran around cleaning the flat, baking a cake and cooking supper for when Tom would be home from work. Once again my plans were foiled by the fact that I couldn’t get the wine bottle (one with a cork) to open, which I needed to make red wine sauce. Anyway, Tom managed to get it open once he got home and dinner turned out fabulous. I’m pretty proud about the cake as well. It’s a traditional Swedish cream and strawberry cake.
After dinner and a glass of wine, I immediately felt my eyelids getting heavy. I hadn’t slept well since I had to get up early and I had a fairly restless sleep. Most of the time I can manage on a few hours sleep, but this time my body just said “SLEEP. NOW.” without much room for argument, so I ended up snoozing pretty heavily on the sofa just before 10 pm. Good thing Tom unintentionally fell asleep at the same time. Man, we’re getting old.