We were watching CNN and it was reported that, statistically speaking (and scientifically chosen), January 24th is the most depressing day of the year. My birthday.
Isn't that peachy?
As if it weren't bad enough getting older (not that I really mind all that much, at least, not yet), I have to do it on the most depressing day of the year.
How exactly do they determine such a thing anyway? "Excuse me, ma'am, we're doing a little survey here. Exactly what day is it you feel the worst? You know, the kind of day where the dog has vomited all over the carpet, the kids are sick, and your husband's in the living room yelling about the telly being broken? And your mother-in-law has just called to discuss coming over for a month visit. That kind of day."
Oh well. I lead a charmed life.
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