Happy Birthday to me

First, a haiku:

Thirty-five -- at least
half a lifetime slipped away
never to return.


Well, it wasn't a bad birthday, as birthdays go. I spent the morning at the eye doctor, undergoing all kinds of freaky tests with flashing lights and random instruments being jabbed into my eyeballs, and such. The verdict is that I can still wear contact lenses, but sparingly. When my new glasses come in, I am supposed to wear them most of the time, but may wear contacts on occasion. I suppose the news could have been worse. I'm high-risk for glaucoma, but so far, so good. I'm supposed to go back every six months for a check-up. I did manage to get a good start on Vladimir Nabokov's Pale Fire while in the waiting room in between tests, so the morning was not a total wash.

I got to work at around lunchtime, and found some gifts and birthday cards from my co-workers on my chair, which was nice. Last year, absolutely nobody remembered my birthday except for my message board friends. One of the attorneys had lunch at Katz's and brought back a positively sinful birthday cake for me -- a chocolate cake layered with white and dark chocolate mousse. I ate half of a slice and I believe I got my chocolate quota for the entire coming year. After work, my parents took me out for dinner and we had a nice time catching up with each other -- I hadn't had the chance to see them much over the past few months.

So, all in all, not a bad birthday.