Dear Twenty-Eight,
I am pleased to have occasion, finally, to write you. You see, Twenty-Eight, although we have gotten to know each other very well, I have not had much to say to you. Yes, we’ve spent a lot of time together–every day, in fact, for the last year–and yet I have never been quite sure what to make of you.
In many ways you were nothing special. Just another number, Twenty-Eight, I’m afraid I must say. Day in and day out, you didn’t feel much different from most other numbers recent in my acquaintance. Twenty-Three, Twenty-Four, Twenty-Five: they were quite similar to you, as it turns out. Twenty-Six as well–virtually no discernible difference. Even more, you must recognize, you were completely indistinguishable from Twenty-Seven.
I’ll admit, we did chance to meet under auspicious circumstances. You are a perfect number. You are a strong, tasty drink, the [double(seven and seven)]. You are a safe two-fold buffer away from Thirty, a number in itself rational, but one I am irrationally reluctant to meet. You had promise, Twenty-Eight.
But did you fulfill that promise? Did you? Huh? Huh? No, Twenty-Eight, no you did not. You did not bring romance, prosperity, or academic success. I would have welcomed such gifts from you, but instead you came around my house with only a pile of unfinished work, several unpaid bills, and at least ten unwelcome pounds. It’s time for me to bid you a brisk farewell, Twenty-Eight. I have dealt with you for as long as I am required by the laws of man or of time.
Never more synonymous with your dark cipher,
Alfina the Twenty-Nine
Happy Birthday!
Great, I was your age when you were born. That makes me feel SOOOO much better.
I think I may need to have a talk with twenty-seven myself. That number started out ok but it turned into a complete douche about a month ago. If we’re going to get through these next four months until twenty-eight rolls around, we’re going to have to hammer something out. I’m thinking of drawing a line down the middle of the house like in that old episode of I Love Lucy. Or was it Perfect Strangers? Sheesh, I’m getting senile in my old age.
Also: happy b-day.
happy birthday, lady! i hope 29 treats you right. also, happy holidays & all that.
Happy birthday. 29 can consider itself officially warned!
happy birthday! yeah, i thought 29 was pretty good. i mean, i got married that year, so i guess it turned out alright.
I don’t remember being 29. I think I had fun though. Well, good luck with the whole thing.
Thanks for the well-wishes, everybody. I can safely report that my birthday celebration rocked, and so far Twenty-Nine is kicking Twenty-Eight’s ass.
I too turn twenty nine very soon. It is a number I have ambivalent feelings towards. how is it turning out for you? Just so I know what to expect?
HAAAPY BIRTH-UH-DAY!
King– So far it rules. There has been some drinking to excess, but no hangovers, tons of writing (!!yay!!) and reading, and I have my first grown-up Christmas tree in my own house. I am officially loving 29.
T– THAAAANK YA!