The dogs are bouncing off the couches. I mean B O U N C I N G! They dash off the couch, to the floor, to the pillows, to the couch, to my lap, to the floor. Holy hell, why don't human beings get this excited about couches?
I may not be excited about couches, but I certainly feel excited about life right now. Wait, why not include being excited about couches? I am excited about this couch. I am excited that I have a couch. In fact, I have two couches. Double the couch, double the excitement. And the dogs like me enough to sit by my side while I'm feeling excited about feeling excited about this couch. And that makes me feel more excited.
Although dogs generally like everyone...
I am excited. I am excited because I'm writing. Ride my cliche-riding with me, won't you? Writing again is like getting on a bike after you haven't cycled in years. Your feet hit the pedals, your hands hit the handlebars, and the wind hits your face...fingers hit keys, words appear, and your face starts to glow. Hello words. Hello thoughts. Hello savoring life.
Yesterday I turned 32. Born Jan. 4th, 1977 at 7:14 p.m. And the weird thing is my oldest brother, who is 20 years my senior, was born on July 14th. So my mother gave birth to her first child on 7/14 and (20 years and 10 children later) gave birth to her last child at 7:14 p.m. I find this to be an exciting coincidence...at least one worth noting.
I am confused as to whether I am in my 32nd year of life or my 33rd year of life. If anyone can explain this concept of age and time, please do.
I was up last night making whoopie into the wee hours of the morning. I think that's the best way to begin 32. It's like you still feel like a teenager while you touch and talk and tickle the ins and outs of each other. And then you wake up after fours hours of sleep and don't feel quite 32. But it's worth it.
I will be a zombie for good lovin' any day. It's well worth the afternoon drag.