I had a lot of fun at my birthday party. Despite one moderately painful day-after chastizing from my landlord (oh, I am so bad with the guilt, be still my perfectionist heart) the li'l party went swimmingly: probably because no one went swimming. I drank too much, stayed up too late, ate too much cake, and generally acted as though it was my birthday. Despite the L train's best efforts at ruining everything, fun was managed to be had.
Today brought (in approximately chronological order): exhausted hangover, brunch, mid-level stress about my personal life, previously mentioned chastizing, and stress relief in the form of a season 2 sex in the city episode in which Charlotte lies about her age and acts a carefree, drunk, irresponsible, and unabashedly YOUNG twenty-seven-year-old.
