Today, I am officially another year older. As my dear, dear brother says in my early-mid 30's. Now, I have to shop in the matron section of the store. Maybe. I think you have to birth something in order to officially be a matron. I'm more of a matron-in-training.
I have celebrated the day with shopping at the thrift store (totally scored a red pair of doc marten mary janes. I know they are no longer on trend but I live in Alaska and nothing is on trend here.). We also had a really nice dinner out at the one nice place in town. It's the steakhouse. It is notable, mostly, for having a salad comprised of entirely verdantly green leaves. None of that pallid iceberg there. I also had a creme brulee with rhubarb sauce. I need more creme brulee in my life.
Tomorrow I will do as little as possible. Because I can.
Our biggest, fanciest news is...we got a regular mortgage. Just like normal 'murcans. It feels funny to celebrate debt, especially paperwork-intensive debt, but I don't care because we are bleeding less money into the interest leech. We were celebrating that too. The bleeding less part, not the debt part. Because nobody should celebrate debt. That most certainly doesn't butter my beans.
(Can you tell I've had a big fatty glass of Malbec?)