Today was my birthday. Birthdays are odd, because you’re essentially celebrating moving one year closer to death. Mind you, that’s better than actually being dead, so there’s that. Unless being dead is secretly cool and all the dead people are keeping it to themselves.
Anyway, a co-worker of mine brought a donut cake of sorts to me while I worked on the service desk today. It was massive and about 5,000 calories and I could not eat all of it. But here’s a picture of it sitting on the corner of my desk:
It was delicious and unexpected and nice. I also got treated to dinner, received a gift card for more books, and got a back scratch and tummy rub. Everything but the donuts was from my partner, not my co-worker. A belly rub from my co-worker would either be terribly awkward or proof that I had slipped into a parallel dimension where such displays are considered normal, possibly even expected.
In all, it was a good ending to what was otherwise a grossbuckets day at work due to ongoing staff shortages/absences/alien abductions. Tomorrow it will just be grossbuckets again.
