HAPPY THIRTY

On the day I turned 30, I was awaken by a series of annoying dog barks, which I groggily found out later was my own hacking.

In the bathroom that morning, I choked on toothpaste foam and spit out clots of greenish phlegm.

On the day I turned 30, my husband left us alone at home in favour of, what else, bowling.

In attempt to cheer up Nunu, I tried making home-made play dough, an absolute flop because she got bored with it after 5 minutes and it turned yucky afterwards.

Not to be deterred, I tried to cheer myself up by making muffins, which turned out to be a flop as well because my oven stopped working midway after I've put in the tray. Endless kitchen mishaps ensued. My spaghetti sauce turned very salty and oily, and at one point it exploded in the pot, splattering red sauce all over the white stove and floor.

On the day I turned 30, my mother came to the rescue and whisked us away to my parents home, where we put the stunted muffins in mom's oven and revived them into something edible. Everyone ate my spaghetti without complaining.

On the day I turned 30, my father turned 57.



However, the nicest thing was, Martian came by later that night and made amends, bearing gifts for us. A watch for Abah, a set of colouring book and colour pencils for Nunu...



And something sweet smelling for me.

It isn't much, but it's enough. Happy birthday Me.