Yesterday marked the anniversary of my birth. We had a small party. I got a keg of Woodchuck, but we didn't finish it. As I've already paid for it, I feel an obligation to polish it off, so now it's in the basement.
But it was also a sad day. Our friends Tony and Sarah are moving to Helen, Georgia to be with Tony's terminally ill mother. On a humanitarian level, this is bad for Tony: nobody wants their parents to die. On a selfish note, this is bad for us: we hung out with them every Friday night and most Saturdays, so our social circumstances have been impacted. This probably won't all sink in until this coming Friday.
Anyway, their furniture is piled into a 14-foot U-Haul and they're on the road as I type. Helen is a two-hour drive from Atlanta and Tee and Ess have told us we should visit. The fact that an IKEA store just opened in Atlanta is added incentive.
This birthday was unsettling on a metaphysical level for me, as well, as it's the first one I've had since my father died. It really made me think about birth, death and all that circle of life shit. It reminds you how insignificant and pointless it all can seem.