This week my hairdryer dissolved into a fire scented stream of sparks, shortly before my phone had an unfortunate encounter with some water and the screen wavered and shorted. I watch my laptop with the suspicion of someone who hasn't backed up this week.

Heading out of town for a minute, for something like a party, which I'm not even sure I want to attend, despite it being a celebration of something like my birthday. I kind of hate days of the year that involve being given things, if we're being honest most holidays aside from delightful secular holidays and government endorsed long weekends. I like celebrating other people's birthdays, just not really my own. The only birthdays I remember completely fondly are ones where my friends enjoyed the party.

I wrote something explaining why birthdays fill me with dread and then decided it wasn't necessary. I don't like celebrating my birthday.

Pete Yorn - For Nancy