Eleven years ago today, I was enjoying some pretty good drugs and anxiously awaiting the birth of my Butterfly. Happy Birthday, sweetie. Love ya!
I could use some of those drugs today. After five quality hours of sleep, the alarm went off erroneously at 5am. I awoke to a monster headache and a happy, perky, cute, adorable and VERY LOUD birthday girl. Ugh. She opened her loot, er, presents, and I slunk back to bed. I gave The C.F.O. instructions to please wake me in time to get to the Y for Pilates, but when he came in to get me, he said he thought I was running a fever. The wonderful man called my friend, Michelle, to say I wasn't meeting her as planned.
She didn't get the message, so she went to Pilates on her own. That's not the bad part. Apparently, the YMCA choose this day to FILM THE CLASS. Michelle, I need not tell you, called me, fire spewing through the phone line, asking, "WHERE.WERE.YOU?????!!!!???? YOU WILL PAY, WOMAN! THEY FILMED MY REAR END!"
Well, I couldn't help laughing. I mean, my death warrant was already signed, so why not, right?
Some people have no sense of humor.
Anyway, Happy Birthday, Butterfly, and many, many more. (Next year, could you sleep 'til six?)
Awww, happy birthday Butterfly!
Posted by: Summer | November 15, 2007 at 04:59 PM