Today’s my birthday. That’s right. April 14, 19––. (Sorry, you don’t get to know the rest of it.) This tells you that I’m at least over twenty-one because until you’re twenty-one, you’re always talking about your age. You know, how soon you’ll be sixteen, and you can get your license or eighteen and you’ll be a legal adult. (I’ve never quite figured out what you get with eighteen besides voting and dying in war privileges.) And twenty-one pretty much opens every secular door on earth. Nope, after twenty-one it’s all downhill from there. Anyway, I digress.
Today’s my birthday, and it feels special. Of course, birthdays always feel special, don’t they? No one else can feel the specialness in it, or even cares about it. But you can and that seems to be enough.