Ah, the after-birthday letdown.

I think that’s why I hate them so (birthdays that is). There’s all this build-up and then It’s! Your! Day! And then the day after you go back to be nobody. Except you’re a year older. Ain’t that a gas.

I did have a nice birthday, if unexpected. I ended up working all day. On Wednesday, my Lady Boss said, “The word for the day: moving.” And we did. Lock, stock, and that mysterious golf club that’s always been under the front table. So I cleaned a bunch since everything was not yet working and the place needed a good clean.

Our reputation preceded us, and we got a bunch of residents and business owners wandering in to say hello and welcome. Which I know made the bosses feel good. We’re popular.

Since I would have spent the day buying random things (underwear and perfume and makeup, prolly) I not only saved money by working, I made money. So it was all kinds of win.

And I finally got (among many other things) a new purse (oh, shut up. I like purses). I’ve had the same workhorse of a bag since college and although it looks pretty new (gotta love Coach bags that way) it also looks pretty workhorsey (Neigh). So I got a bag I’ve been eyeing for ages. It’s made of seat belts. The car ones. For safety. Seat belts. It’s kinda awesome. I’m kinda happy.

Now I get to spend the weekend working (except for when I go out and buying all sorts of random things like underwear and perfume and makeup, prolly). So go out there and have some fun for me. Deconstruct something if you’re so inclined. Be it a movement, a theory, an outfit, or a nearby chair.

Because deconstruction is fun now.