Aren't you excited?! Not at all?! Great! Let's do this!
So I kicked off this morning with an appointment with my therapist. I thought that was rather metaphorical and movie-esque. Someone in the movies would go to her therapist to freak out about turning 30, right?
So I did it.
I stopped for donuts on the way because duh, but also because while I'm a huge advocate for therapy I still don't find it to be fun, exactly, so sometimes I carrot myself along with things like donuts.
So I should say "donut myself along," if we're being honest.
I then went to the room of rest, as my father likes to call the bathroom, before my appointment,
AND IT'S A GOOD THING I DID
because upon looking in the mirror I discovered pink donut icing
ON MY FACE.
Are we sure I'm mature enough to turn 30? Is there like a test I need to past first?
So therapy was fine, I'm glad I went.
I'm glad I got the donut off my face beforehand.
I'm glad I'm still spelling it "donut" even though the Associated Press Style Book tells me it's "doughnut." But this is my blog, and my birthday, and so I'm ignoring that style rule.
I also think it should be spelled "bobbi" pin instead of "bobby."
After therapy, I arrived at the office and not one, not two, but three bouquets were awaiting me.
My office smells brilliantly of stargazer lilies and it's amazing and heady and wonderful.
Tomorrow I head north to spend a chilly weekend -- weather-wise, not emotionally -- with some girlfriends. There are plans for mani-pedis, burgers, drinks, potential (hopefully!) dancing, and the opening of Care Package From Mother in place. I also plan to write.
To get to this ladies weekend of fun and relaxation, I must make a 5 hour driving trek by my lonesome (Alex has business here in LA, then will catch up later), which I also feel is metaphorical for my 30th birthday. So I'm doing it.
Just hopefully not with
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