Another birthday arrives, No. 52

Another birthday has arrived for yours truly. This one is number 52. I was born on Saturday, October 18, 1969 at 4:44 a.m. at Druid City Hospital in Tuscaloosa, Alabama.
For years, excitement used to shiver down the spine of mine every October 18th. A smile was often planted on my face the entire day.
I'll give the X credit. For the first 10 years we were together, she always assembled a steak dinner at a restaurant with her parents, sisters and their spouses, maybe a pair of couples. Presents (usually from her) and a cake followed. 
I appreciated that. The last two years we split and in that time, I stopped eating her cooking.
Until I turned 18, my mother had a cake and cooked my favorite dish. Cash from a few relatives usually followed. 
I am a simplistic person. Having someone think of me in small doses usually work in the form of food and cake.
I have nearly 3,000 friends on my personal Facebook page and I can't get 1/10 or 300 to wish me happy birthday. A few years back, the highest ever was 420. 
It's one of the downfalls of being single, particularly when the love interest doesn't make an effort to make things happen (Another woman may end up 'stealing' me away someday, but that's a story for another day). 
In recent years, I often celebrate my birthday on another day with a steak dinner. I often work on my birthday and the 2021 version is no different.
I may try to celebrate Tuesday out of town if I can get off at a reasonable time and buy myself a book. Odds aren't good with that, when you're working with a disabled person who slows down work for several hours and can't get out of their own way.
October 18, 2021 is another birthday edition for me. It might turn out like the Bangles' 1986 hit, another "Manic Monday." We shall see.

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