Thursday was my birthday, which means I'm now sliding towards 50 more than I am strolling away from 40. Age may be just a number, but dang, those numbers add up fast.
I've decided I'm going to suck at being old. Jowels make me grumpy. Droopy eyelids do not give me character. But most of all, I can't remember anything worth beans. Which, I'm finding out this week, means I'm going to be really bad about taking meds.
Last week I went back to the doctor, for followup on my elevatated liver levels (which is much more fun to say than to type, as evidenced by the fact it just took me three tries to type that prase) and whatever infection in my head is stubbornly sticking around. So, I'm now on prednisone and another antibiotic in addition to the Hey, thyriod! pill, the zyrtec, and the keep-my-ankles-from-looking-like-water-b
I don't think I've had a day yet where I've remembered to take them all, although like the Good Girl I always am, I haven't totally forgotten the Big Three (thyroid, steriod, antibioticiod). I swear, I need one of those pill boxes with a zillion compartments for day/time of day/meal/weather conditions to keep it all straight.
Anyhoos, the birthday part of getting older is always fun. I had a very nice birthday lunch at work. The kids and I also had a nice birthday lunch yesterday at our favorite Chinese place and I let them have Shirley Temples, which come with a straw stuck through a cool flower, which is more exciting than the actual drink. I got to open presents twice - the ones from Husband and the kids on my actual birthday, and the ones from the rest of my family last night at my official birthday dinner. At which I wore a birthday crown. How cool is that?