I thought I would do some neat article on birthday memories, but I find that I really don't have all that many memories of my birthday in particular. My strongest birthday memory is actually a fairly unpleasant one. I know I had good birthdays, I just can't pull them out of the mental jumble at the moment.
Naturally, my "song of the day" would have to be "Happy Birthday" as sung by all the various people who have sung it to me in the last day or so. Even the happily mangled versions. I also have to be pleased with myself because the way I stated my age to my boss, in a mathematical puzzle, she actually didn't get right the first time (and she's a math enthusiast!). See, the first time I'm twenty-seven years old is when I'm actually twenty-seven, so if I'm "27 for the Nth time" the formula is actually 26+N. Hee hee!
"I grow old... I grow old... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled."
-The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot
I'm not old, of course, but I like the imagery in that poem of walking along a beach in white trousers with the legs rolled up a bit, dashing in and out of the waves.
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