Thirty two. Today, I am thirty two.
And I have no insightful or witty birthday banter to share because I’ve been fighting with my love since yesterday afternoon (that’s now 24 hours, a new record) thanks to our differing puppy parenting styles. We seldom argue, so I’m tired, and miserable.
This is not the post that I thought I’d write today, but it’s what wants to be written.
And if there’s only one thing that I’ve started learning this year, it is that most times, the true story is the right one.
(Some insight there at the end then. Go me!)