What happened to me? Once upon a time I used to go dancing on tables, night after night. Eat pizza lying on the couch with my best friend. Drink a cup of conversation for lunch. And be ready to do it all over again. Week after week after week. I like to think I was party personified. I have to tell you - I am completely knackered. My back aches. My head is tired. I just want to curl up in bed. Is this normal after two birthdays in three days? Or am I just going soft? I'm not even thirty yet.
We spent yesterday morning at the aquarium, and then raced home so I could bake.
And bake I did. Oh and I haven't even told you about how I picked up a baking dish that had been in the oven for 20 minutes at 230 degrees. With. My. Bare. Hands. I didn't mean to bake my own damn hands. That's for shiz. Needless to say, I am sporting some very, very achey breaky sore hands today.
Please get out the world's smallest violin and play a little solo for me.
The worst thing is, I still am not even remotely organised for the par-tay on Saturday. I've barely done a scratch. Someone, send me Martha Stewart. Someone, send me my old stamina.
I've vaguely worked out the menu (thankfully the party is in the afternoon so I have a little more time up my sleeve).
In fact, gulp, I am madly looking for a tiger costume for the Doctor to wear, because his party theme is party animals. Talk about lastminute.com. Straitjacket? Sedatives? Gurney? All sounds good right about now.
Nevertheless, cake was consumed last night, and the Doctor decorated his own. A highlight of the day to be sure, to be sure.
