I'm exhausted. I don't know why - probably seasonal allergies, thanks so much Chico. I'd take allergy meds...but I'm already falling asleep at my desk, and the non-drowsy ones are like, $92/dose, so sniffling it is.
Also...Saturday's my birthday. It's not a big/round/exciting number - 26 - but still. My birthday. I've had some shitty birthdays - like my 18th, right after which my favorite grandpa died. Last year's was great - had a big party, lots of friends and family, etc. This year I threw another party, but a week early, since Easter's the Sunday after my birthday...
So I figured, sure, I'll just hang out around the house with Jeff, make him do stuff for me, it'll be fun still, right?
Apparently Jeff has to go help find human remains on Saturday. My birthday.
Sure, it's his chosen career, and I guess I should get used to it, if this is what he wants to do. I can't really say no, can I? I don't get to give him permission.
The last time he got called on a recovery? Our first wedding anniversary.
Good timing, bodies. Go back underground.