My cousin opened my fridge door and listed the contents:
"12 cans of beer, 2 bottles of wine, half a pint of milk of indeterminate age, something that might once have been cheese and... what *is* that thing?"
"A tomato?" I volunteered
He shuddered. "I'm impressed. That really is a true bachelor refridgerator. Well done."
He'd presented me with my birthday present. Some nice drift music to play of an evening when I light all the candles various people have given me. Its really rather splendid.
So now we're into day 2 of my birthday (yes, I'm padding this one out a bit. Having far too much fun not to) and I'm reminded of last year; The Ex had been fucking her boss for over a year and was about three weeks away from dumping me. I was still in blissful ignorance of this fact. On reflection, I hadn't realised how miserable I was - but thats a long angsty post for another day.
The Ex always liked the fact that my birthday fell on the 29th. That, and the fact that I am left-handed apparently made me 'special'. The word 'special' can be interpreted in a variety of ways, but I took it as a compliment. I fished some more: "how do you mean 'special' ?" She just looked at me and said "Well, there can't many left-handers born on Feb 29th, can there?"
Okaaaay...
She has actually improved at the dispensing of compliments of late. I still chortle at the memory of her showing up one evening and suggesting sex "for old time's sake" since The Boyfriend is apparently, ah, not a bedroom superstar (personally, I think he's lost interest - I mean, they were at it for other a year so she must have had some idea as to his, ehm, abilities.)
Naturally I told her to go away. Sure, I'm shallow, but thank god I'm not that shallow. Not yet at any rate.
