And Now We Are Thirty-Nine

I turn thirty-nine today. As is traditional, I am posting the first-thing-I-Do-On-My-Birthday-Ugly-Selfie, because no birthday is complete until my parents ring wondering why in hell I would put such a thing on the internet. This year, we celebrate the new reality of me and sleep:

And Now We Are Thirty-Nine

Occasionally, just for the hell of it, I will wake up and say Luke, I am your Father, just ’cause the breathing effects are right.

It was about this point, last year, that I fell asleep while driving and finally got to the point that my doctor to thought hmmm, maybe sleep apnea? We should send you for tests. It took a really long time to get to that point, but I’m incredibly happy that shit got sorted out. Years of feeling like I was somehow broken, and suddenly there was a fix.

Thirty-eight was a pretty good year, as a result. I look forward to thirty-nine.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I shall go and celebrate my birthday the best way I know how: breakfast at my local cafe, write club, avoiding Facebook until the deluge of birthday well-wishers has subsided, and crossing my fingers that I’ll get a phone call from the repair place letting me know I can come pick up my laptop.

PeterMBall

PeterMBall

Peter M. Ball is a speculative fiction writer, small press publisher, and writing mentor from Brisbane, Austraila. He publishes his own work through Eclectic Projects and works as the brain in charge at Brain Jar Press.
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