A letter to myself

(with credit to Dooce, who also has a birthday around now, and wrote a post which inspired me to write this one)

Dear me,

Happy birthday! Since I'm not working in an office I've had many telephonic and e-mail and FB birthday greetings, but few in person, so I'm going to count this as one. It's funny, working from home on your birthday. I should have taken the day off I suppose, but instead I managed to arrange a meeting with the bank manager. How? Why?! Mystery to me. Anyhow, I do have a pedicure booked for later on, that's something to look forward to, and then a birthday tea with my nearest and dearest this evening, so perhaps for now I should enjoy the peace, and get some work done so as to be able to properly enjoy my evening.

Which brings me to my main point (and excuse the caps, but sometimes I need to shout at myself to make myself heard above the other voices, the ones which say"don't forget to order that repeat prescription" or "do you have enough hayfever tablets to take away on holiday with you?") - STOP AND SMELL THE ROSES!

Not literally, we don't have roses, and sunflowers aren't renowned for their aroma. No, the metaphorical roses. I need to pause, relax, stop rushing from one task to the next, and just enjoy my lovely children and gorgeous husband. Even my mother's started doing this (not enjoying my gorgeous husband, but counting her blessings!) - if she can learn to at the age of 66 then I can at the age of 38. In fact, if I'm doing it already, then I must be winning. Oh god, I'm competitive even when it comes to relaxing.