So now I´m thirty-two, which officially puts me in the last period where I can claim my early thirties and soon enough I´ll be having to admit I´m in my mid-thirties and that´s followed straight with the late thirties and then the forties, fifties, sixties, nineties and before I know it they´ll be measuring me up for a coffin and discussing which sucker has to give the eulogy.
Actually thirty two isn´t that bad at all and since passing the thirty milestone two years ago I´ve really felt I´ve hit my stride in this whole weird thing we call life. The thirties have been relatively good (despite a few nervous breakdowns but let´s face it, you can get those in any decade) to me so far so I won´t go dissing ´em in case they take offense and start REALLY screwing with my life.
We were planning on spending the day in the world´s largest hanger. Come now, I know that each and every one of you has secretly wished to spend a birthday in giant airship hanger and aren´t you just spitting chips that I live so close to it? Actually, since the economic collapse of the company who constructed it in the 1990´s thinking that giant airships were the way of the future, the building has been converted into a giant water park with slides and beaches and rainforests and the whole thing is so big that it actually has it´s own micro climate, forms clouds and rains. Now it sounds interesting, hey?
But we didn´t go. Nope, slept in too long, couldn´t be bothered, decided instead to use my present of a year´s pass to all the State Museums here instead. But once we got to the latest MoMA exhibit (really, the MoMA seems to like shipping stuff to us here- with over 170 museums and galleries, do they honestly think we´re lacking for culture or what?) we decided the line was too long, it was raining and what I REALLY wanted to do on my birthday was spend money on myself so I went and bought books. Lots and lots of pretty books. With pictures. And I´m one happy not-quite-yet-mid-thirties year old.