At 34
14 years and 3 months ago, on a
Wednesday
The 11th of February 2009, to be precise
I’ve just turned 34. Yesterday.
Everyday I’m a day older. Every week I’m a week older. Every month I’m a month older. So you’ve guessed by now that I don’t believe it’s anything special to be one year older. And indeed it was almost an ordinary day.
Everybody congratulated me. I even decided to put up with a tradition I hate and I bought cookies and refreshments to offer them at work. Of course, every woman that went by the office and saw the cookies, wanted to know how old I was. Most of them said I’m very young, some said nothing, but all of them asked. I wonder how old they thought I was.
So everybody congratulated me, except my father. I guess the big fight we had over the phone about 2 weeks ago is still bothering him. Or he simply forgot. Either way, I tried not to get too bothered by it. Since I’m mentioning it here, I guess it didn’t work. Well, I have warned him not to push all my wrong buttons the way he did… I even told him I’m in an office full of people so I can’t discuss the things he was bringing up. Nothing mattered for him, and eventually he managed to get me really mad. So I shouted at him, and cursed a lot, and got really really mad… I thought my mother alone had the gift to bring out the worst in me, but I was obviously wrong.
Crenguţa wasn’t feeling very well, she’s probably coming down with the flu (again), so we ordered a pizza and stayed home. We opened a bottle of wine, which proved not to be very good, and didn’t go too well with the pizzas, but we drank it anyway. Then we went to sleep.
Am numărat întâi pe degetele de la mâna dreaptă, dar a trebuit să continuu cu cele de la mâna stângă, ca să îmi fie clar de câţi ani ne ştim. E pură aritmetică însă, pentru că poţi trăi alături de un om, într-o singură zi, cât pentru un an întreg. Dar oare ce voiam să spun?! … A! Revenind la aritmetică, judecând după numărul anilor ce tocmai îmi ieşiră la socoteală, speram să fiu întrebat măcar dacă ştiu vreun vin bun. Pentru că nu s-a întâmplat aşa în 2009, anticipându-l pe 10 februarie 2010, îţi spun doar atât: Castel Bolovan. Da, e roşu şi sec, dar are un gust al dracului, gust de viaţă. Şi ar trebui băut în fiecare zi, pentru că toate zilele sunt speciale. Crede-mă pe cuvânt!
Mihnea
February 13th, 2009 17:22Sincer să fiu, nu-mi sună în nici un caz apetisant acel „bolovan”… şi probabil o să te dezamăgesc, dar nu prea consum vin sec. Sînt eu suficient de acru.
Dar promit că la anul măcar cer sugestii 🙂
February 13th, 2009 17:26dragul meu frate, esti numa’ bun! 34 de ani sunt o minunatie. si ar fi cazul sa-ti mai rafinezi si tu gusturile un pic, acum ca te apropii de varsta senectutii. (param pam pam!) “you can’t go on being a plonker all your life!” (only fools and horses) asa ca poti sa incepi sa bei vin, lasa dracu’ berea, aia nu e bautura. sa-mi traiesti, draga Tudor. La multi ani!
February 18th, 2009 14:33Salut! Sper ca au ajuns la tine urarile mele de la multi ani prin Ancuta. ma bucur ca am dat de tine pe aici. Poate ne mai si vedem candva!
March 16th, 2009 01:14