So I had a birthday ending in 0. I'm not going to complain about turning 40 but it has caused me discomfort all year thinking about it. I feel better now that it's over. We went to Perth so Ian could take me to a fancy restaurant but by that stage of the day all I really wanted to do was put my pyjamas on and hang out in bed. Is that a part of getting older? Or just being a tired parent? Or should I just view it as Gretchen Rubin would say, as "knowing myself" and the fact that I would have enjoyed a kranski hotdog from the Freo markets and waffles from Gelare twice as much for a tiny fraction of the price? Maybe I'm just a tight arse?! Am I leaving behind fancy restaurants in my thirties? I think I am!
I hope you aren't having as much existential angst about your next birthday as I had! Here's to the best decade yet :)