Tenth

It is nearly my birthday. Not that I expect you to care, let alone to rush out and buy me something; but rather it's helpful to remind myself of it, particularly at this time of year, when it is far too easy to be swept along by everything else that is happening. December is typically spent frantically buzzing around, worrying about all the stuff you have to buy, and wrap up, and put into the freezer. (Not necessarily the same item, you understand: else the wrapping paper would go soggy.)  Sometimes you have to call a halt to it all, and try to find a moment of stillness to reflect on the passing of time and the relentless approach of yet another birthday. Unfortunately for me, the stillness is often broken by the disconsolate wailing of the cat, who clearly wants something, but never quite lets on what it is.