It’s been a pretty wonderful couple of days. I turned 30 on Friday, and my lovely friends made a big fuss of me. It was a funny kind of day with various minor catastrophes such as a bed soaked in cat pee (Sarsaparilla is not entirely thrilled with his new status in life as an indoor cat) and a minor-ish gas leak. Nonetheless, it was a great day and I was mostly spoiled rotten. That evening I decided to celebrate with a last minute ice cream party. I bought 12 liters of different flavours of icecream and various toppings and invited a bunch of friends around to share it. It was a good gig. I like last minute parties, they don’t work for everyone, but for me with the fibro pretty bad lately, it’s great to be able to book one when I’m feeling well instead of weeks ahead and who knows how I might be feeling on the day. As it was I was very, very tired but otherwise in good spirits and enjoyed the company.

I was rather overwhelmed by the end of the night, there were a couple of relationship snags that hurt, and I also reached the point where people being lovely to me did my head in a bit. I woke the next morning in a sweat, with an overriding concern that planning to have two parties in the one year (this ice cream one and a big one later on when my sister returns home from overseas) was simply the height of narcissism, which set off some self-loathing mess. I’ve had a pretty quiet weekend since, just settling down again. The next day, Rose and I went out to an animal/pet expo and I got to pat a snake.

That was pretty cool. I also bought a very large wheatbag for using when my back pain is flaring, like it has been lately in the cooler weather. I’m spending more time in the bath and in bed at the moment, resting up with bad joint pain. I now have a small collection of wheat bags to warm up my bed and snug around different limbs and joints. It’s making a difference so I’m staying pretty philosophical about things.