Damnit, i've been ratted out!
yesterday was my birthday, and i thought i had gotten away with it and would be spared all the singing and cake. I ranted enough about the subject yesterday, so i won't repeat.
So here's me, happily skipping through my work day, knowing that i cheated the strange customs of obligatory socializing. I cheated the system - no, i cheated Death itself. Well, maybe not. But anyway. And here comes one of those nosy co-workers, of the type that gets horribly offended when you tell them Secret Santas are a stupid idea - and she's got a printout of everybody's birthdays in her hand! She knows!! She knows my secret, damn her. For an instant i consider the obvious solution, but i decide that, for my new baby's sake, i can't afford to kill anybody this year. Damnit.
"You forgot to tell me something about yesterday," she beams joyously at me. What, is my antisocial scowl broken today?
"What's that?" i ask her. How come nobody does subtlety anymore?
She smiles victoriously. "It was your birthday!!" Oh yeah.
"Oh, that. No, i didn't forget." Hint hint.
"I'm going to tell the boss". I swear she says this exactly like a seven-year-old tattling on her naughty siblings. It's too late to strangle her now. Too many people have seen us together. Damnit damnit damnit.
But i'll be damned if i'm going to eat that cake.