Today's my birthday. I'm . . . fortyish.
How did I "celebrate"? With 90 minutes of conference calls, a visit to the pediatrician to determine that Snookums did not have swine flu, a greasy gyro purchased on the street, and a couple of glasses of cheap red wine.
I'm not in much of a celebratory mood, seeing as I found out yesterday I'm not pregnant, despite having transferred five fertilized embryos into my aging womb 12 days ago.
Indeed, I'm downright bummed. Not to mention broke. But I'll get over it.
And until I do, I'll keep drinking this cheap wine.