The birthday frivolities went well. I spent most of yesterday outside with my feet up, in the shade, sipping lemonade and reading. Lovely.
In short: Chocolate cake was consumed. Sniffy card was given. Toaster oven was unwrapped.
[It’s a toaster! I can’t think of the word “toaster” without thinking about Scrooged.]
Anyway. Everything is quietly happy here. And 33 looks to be a great deal better than 32.