Today is the annual recognition of my (first) vaginal egress. It’s my birthday (I’m 38). Since my previous birthday plans of going to see a comedian at the Improv have been squashed by the pandemic, a couple days ago, I wrote out my ideal schedule for the day, and then shared it with the people it included. Here it is:
Proposed plan for my birthday (this Sunday):
9:30 AM – 10:30 AM
Getting out of bed with Gizmo
11:00 AM – 2:00 PM
Personal Reflection / Wondering if I have chest pains/COVID / YouTube / Write the blog / Interactive Animated Storytelling Content (aka video games)
2:00 PM – 5:00ish PM
Tabletop gaming (Lords of Waterdeep?) with friends who choose to partake, which may include Lauren, Dan, Doscher, Gizmo, and Ryan.
6:00 PM – 7:00 PM
Seriously. I’m pretty sure I have it. Did I just cough? Is that you, Rona? Let me check the pulse/ox.
7:00 PM – 10:05 PM
Dinner, Ozark, and Westworld with Kate
1:40 AM – 1:46 AM
Bedtime / sex with one or more people regular people only get to fantasize about (with masks and proper social distancing)
I’m dying. This isn’t a panic attack this time. I know it. I’m freaking dying right now.
I was totally honest with myself and decided the above is exactly what I wanted to do today. I used my birthday as permission to do so. And that’s exactly what’s happening. I’m writing this now at 12:37 PM.
It got me thinking, though. Why aren’t I doing this every day? I pretty much do what I feel like, and don’t do the things I don’t want to do, but why not give myself permission to plan to do whatever my perfect day is, every day? I mean, yeah, I have responsibilities. But, besides going to the doctor or the dentist, I picked those and want to do them, too.
So, that’s the advice for today. Obviously, life happens, and it won’t always be 100% possible, But let’s try to be honest with ourselves about what we really want to do each day, write that down, let others know, and let’s live every day like it’s our birthday.