So it’s my birthday. Yes, and birthdays are the only day you can truly call your own. KEL is at the market and I got up with her. We’re babysitting the little Shit-su, so I walked him and am now too awake to sleep. But that’s okay, blogging is pretty close to sleep, right? Turn off brain, do repetitive task twitchy things, eventually you write Hamlet.

This year is a strange birthday year. On-line, that is. (The rest is great.  KEL has decorated our weeping ficus and made it the birthday tree, and there are presents.  Galore.  Crazy).  But the on-line thing is wierd.  I am getting email birthday greetings from various services, websites, etc on which I have registered for various reasons. I’m sure it’s their idea of a nice thing to do, keep the customer’s attention, but who wouldn’t see the utter cynical side of it all. “We have a program that generates a generic birthday greeting and sends it to you to make it seem like someone cares.”  Thanks, I love you too.   I dunno, it just seems like that’s the sort of thing that can make a lonely person feel even lonelier: someone might want to ignore their birthday, but yahoo or techguys.com or maybe, I dunno, classmates.com, sends them little messages “happy birthday, loser.  Thanks for being our customer.” How cruel.  “They make me feel special, but why doesn’t anyone love me?

Like I said, I’m tired, so if this makes no sense, you’ve got my excuse. But I don’t really care, because techguys.com just sent me a sweet happy birthday email. They like me, they really like me. Oh, those tech guys. Who’da thought that techies could be so loving?

Uh oh. Shit/Su is barking. I think I sense another poop. His, not mine.