Today is for me the most painful day on the calendar. I hate Daylight Savings. It is an abomination that forces me to lose a precious hour of my life.

I woke up feeling robbed. A full hour burgled out from under me. The pain is made worse by M.’s distance. (One of the many things I miss by our 3,000-mile separation is his bringing toast and coffee to me in bed and reading the headline news aloud.) Even worse, I will be spending the day at a birthday party where there will likely be scads of children. I have nothing against folks with families, or what some people might call “breeders,” afterall I came from a family. But, sometimes I’m less than at ease in groups of people where as a lifestyle choice it’s the prominent one, and all others must take the backseat. I should be more open-minded, but I haven’t reproduced, so I’m probably just bitter at my barren field, metaphorically speaking.

So, no sleep, and an afternoon taken.

Of course, the other reason I’m a tad bitchy over this party is birthday parties for adults are always a little weird. Like in this case, it’s for a friend who is turning 40. Everyone in our group is turning 40 this year, so it’s not a unique event. But, no really, I should be happy that her husband thought of her. Maybe I just think this my 40th year should be declared year of me and be left at that.