I'm 40 years old today. All week, he kids were asking me, "Are you excited daddy? Are you excited for your birthday daddy? You're gonna be 40 on saturday daddy, are you excited?"
"Yeah, I'm excited." I'd reply eye-rollingly.
Honestly though, I am excited. There a lot of places I expected to be at 40. Dead, drunk, naked, performing in a dive bar in East St. Louis as "Lady Gagguh." So all in all, I'm feeling pretty good about it.
Also, there's this:
So we found this injured bird in the backyard. A grackle. I found it. The poor thing was flopping around on its back and trying to turn upright without success. I got some gloves on and tried setting it upright. It hitched and bobbed and wobbled and flipped back over again.
"Maybe it's shitfaced?" I thought. I smelled it's breath. No such luck. I didn't know what to do with it. I certainly couldn't have the kids finding it.
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