Friday, January 2, 2009

The time I forgot the date of my own birthday

One day when I was about 7 years old, I was over at my friend Monica Mixa's house playing. She had a glass table out on her patio, and I had never seen one of those. I thought it was cool that if I put my hand under the table while I was coloring, I could still see it.

Anyway, it was in the summer time shortly before school started. Back then, school started in September. I can't remember what day - let's say, for the sake of the story, that it was September 7th. So we had come inside from coloring, and I was sitting on a bar stool in the kitchen. (Strange, the things you remember...)

Monica's mom asked me when my birthday was. I was so excited about school starting that I told her my birthday was September 7th. Instead of when it really is, which is Jan. 23rd. She said, "Oh, your birthday is on the same day that school starts!" I realized my mistake then, but I was too embarassed to tell her my real birthday. I wish I could go back in time and say the right day, because I think about that day every so often and think, "How could I forget my own birthday?"

And, "Why were you so excited for school to start, you nerd? It's for the new outfit, isn't it?"

And, "Why is this such a vivid memory? It's not even that big of a deal."

Oh well. Some stories just beg to be written down. For no good reason. So I comply.

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