Today is my birthday.
Today I turn 66 and I get to celebrate this momentous occasion all by myself; well almost.
All the worthless ones will be here.
As children, we were given-- within reason-- the choice of dinner of the birthday.
So I am going to fix a chicken. That is my choice for this day, my 66th birthday.
But I am a sly puss, I am, for a chicken dinner will last me, properly spaced out, a week.
So this is more than just a dinner of chicken; this is a week of not having to think about what to cook for dinner.
Happy birthday to me.
1 comment:
Happy birthday!
Tænk sig hvis du havde stægt en oksefillet, så havde der været til en måned! :-)
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