It's that time of the year again, yes, I mean my birthday. I don't know about the rest of the world, but as a kid, I use to look forward to my birthday and couldn't wait to get another year older. What the hell was I thinking?

As the Earth makes another pass around the sun, the year continues to turn and the date of my birth arrives again. This year I turned 45. The age really means nothing to me. Okay, so I'm older, but nothing traumatic or anything.

This morning, my usual luck held. I wanted to get up extra early to get my car in to be serviced, mainly because on the way home last night the temperature gauge on my car went right up to high. We evidently had a power outage. I woke up and found I had slept nearly an hour later than I wanted to. Raced through a shower and took my car in to find out I have a leak and that I nearly had no antifreeze left in the car. To say I am thrilled would be an understatement. This took them over two hours to figure out. It only took a hundred twenty bucks to fix. Joy.

Came home to a call from my father, wishing me a happy birthday. That was immediately followed by a list of all the things he wanted done or for me to bring up to him. I figured I would do lunch with him at twelve. Well between the length of time getting the car done and the list of things he wanted I was finally ready to leave the house around two. Have I mentioned how little parking there is at the rehab center? Twenty minutes after I got there I finally got a spot.

For a man who was on water for two weeks, and baby food for two more, my father has finally graduated to regular food again. He doesn't get to eat whatever he wants but is given two choices every day to pick from. I take him out for lunch, after jumping through every possible hoop to get him out, and we go to the diner. This place has everything you could possibly want to eat. What does he order? Not the prime ribs he loves. Not the pork chops stuffed with apples and stuffing. Nope. Finally able to get whatever he wants Dad orders a hamburger. Yes, I am overwhelmed by the fact he has a burger, eats a third of it and tells me he is stuffed.

Oh well. I dropped him off and came home after stopping to buy myself a gift. I bought some shirts and figured I would eat at home. Made a salad, chicken cordon bleu, and had a glass of peach cranberry juice. At least my dinner was quiet.

My final joy of the day, I misplaced my work schedule and haven't a clue what time I should be to work tomorrow. At least my luck hasn't changed.