I used to have fun birthdays when I was a kid, but I guess I just grew out of it.
Everyone but me seems to want to recognize my birthday. Most importantly, I have to call my Mom and thank her, because it’s really her day. Usually I just go out to dinner with my wife. I’ve turned off birthday notifications on Facebook, and everywhere else I can, to avoid automated and might-as-well-be-automated greetings.
I’ve tried to make it the day I remember to schedule the yearly doctor’s appointments.
I absolutely despise the birthday song — to me it sounds like a funeral dirge. And cake — or more generally sugar — might as well be poison.