Je suis Trente Pourtant ?

Depending on what clock you’re using, the US clock where I am, or the UK clock where I was born, I may or may not be thirty yet. I’m not sure if I’m okay with that or not. I also don’t know which day I was truly born on – June 13th or the 14th – since I was born at my mom’s punk house in the middle of the night. Still, I’d move back to London if I could.

Tomorrow is my official birthday. As in the one that is on all the legal paper work and all that mumbo-jumbo.

Sadly, tomorrow is also going to be the day that Baxter may die. I’ve decided to send him with my husband to a vet to be put to sleep. Or at least examined. I can’t go. I have work, and then there’s the part where I’m too depressed to go. I gave the little guy some cheese and tomatoes today. He was so happy to get the attention, and he doesn’t smell sick, but he’s still a little lethargic. I don’t want to see him die. A family pet, you know? His cage-mate took some of the cheese too. Mostly they just snuggle in their cage. It’s as if they know their time together is limited.

I’m going to go watch the Sunday animations. I’ve officially depressed myself.

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