I was getting a bit of cabin fever today so I decided to grab a book (Moby Dick) and my iPod and walk to le cosy coffee joint inside the grocery store. I have been carefully collecting punches on my card from my daily coffees and finally, I saved up enough to get a free dose of caffeinated bliss. Ken, my favorite (loud, outgoing) barrista (isn't there a masculine version of that word?) and I started chatting and somehow the issue of my birthday came up. You see, it's in exactly one week from today that I will take the fatal plunge into adulthood: 22. Ken, without a word, turned around and marched into the center of the bustling store and yelled, "Hey everybody! It's Ashely's birthday! Let's sing to her! Happy Birthday to you...!" Haahhhh. I turned the brightest shade of red I could possibly achieve. It was fun though. It's not every day you get strangers to sing happy birthday to you.
After the commotion died down I settled into my book and my coffee and had one of the most relaxing afternoons I've had in a long time. I should do that more often. Minus the birthday thing.