Next Tuesday, I’m turning 37 so I decided to make myself a cake a week in advance, for my Thursday breakfast. 37 is a weird age to be turning because it holds absolutely no significance. It’s not a milestone. It contains no auspicious (or unlucky, for that matter) numbers. It’s kind of a beige tinted purgatory somewhere between being, say, 29 and 40, but definitely tilting toward the old end of the spectrum. I have a sneaking suspicion that I ought to be mature and sensible by now but that probably only applies to my natal time zone.
I’m not sure if cake for breakfast is mature or sensible, but it’s irrelevant as I’m in China, 15 time zones away. (more…)