Just another 1,440 minutes

My birthday is right around the corner and I'm not happy about it. Being another year older really doesn't have anything to do with it. I'm a firm believer that age is just a number. Afterall, what the heck is the difference between 40 years 364 days and 41 years? 1,440 minutes.

I don't celebrate my birthday, it wasn't my choice to be born. It sort of happened nine months after something else just sort of happened. It's not really an accomplishment as I see it. If anyone feels compelled to make note of it, then they can have a whoopie doo, whiz bang time. Just don't expect me to be a part of it. I don't want or desire the attention... and looking at the scale I don't need the lousy grocery store cake and fruit punch office get-together.

Last year I had a great 40th birthday. I wrapped up things at a business conference in the morning and spent the rest of the day driving six plus hours home from Philadelphia to Amherst, MA by myself. No one was the wiser, no one said anything, it was just another day. It was heaven... none of the silliness that goes along with people fawning over the "important" day. No celebration, nothing special to mark the day... just work then a long drive up the Jersey Turnpike stopping only for gas, bathroom breaks and Diet Coke.

This year it falls on a weekend, which is good. I can go about my life just like any other day... alone watching the NHL Playoffs and maybe doing chores around the house. Nothing special, just another 1,440 minutes.

P.S... Mom, when I say I don't want anything I really mean it... I don't want anything.