It was my habit, a few years back, to have a ‘birthday week’. This generally started on the night before my birthday, and continued for six days after the event. During this special time, I would do no housework, and complete no chores, of any kind. I revelled in the absence of responsibility, claiming that anything unacceptable was due to it being ‘birthday week’. I made arrangements to see friends, ate out a lot, and generally did whatever I wanted to.
I refused to cook or wash up, and any behaviour or silliness on my part was deemed to be acceptable. This once a year festival of my birth was taken extremely seriously, and no exceptions were considered to be allowable. They were good times indeed, and immensely enjoyed by me, if nobody else.
Unfortunately, age and responsibility have a way of creeping up on you, so my birthday week in 2015 just didn’t happen. Problems with the heating seem to have overtaken my justifiable celebrations. It is now working, but there is no hot water. So yet again, tomorrow I have to wait in for the engineer. I still have my normal dog-walking duties too. I cannot get out of those, or Ollie will suffer. Other things must be done of course, as Julie is at work all day. So, easy cooking has been the order, just stuff thrown into the oven. I have washed up too, and put out the bins, and most other things required of normal life.
The next few days do not have openings for further celebrations. The weather forecast is dire, for one thing, and I have no plans in place anyway. I am beginning to think that this ‘birthday week’ thing has had its day, and run its course. I’m going back to one day next year. It’s a lot easier to manage.