Of course. Obviously. As chance would have it. Two days before my 27th birthday (i.e., yesterday), what do I see in the mirror? Yes, me, but, besides? A white hair, sparkling merrily to defy me.
Alright, so I’ve already said that I didn’t care all that much about my age per se, and it doesn’t really traumatize me (well, it’s always better than losing hair). But, still. Two days before my birthday—isn’t that precisely the ideal moment? Life is a bitch and it loves making fun of me, I tell you…
(Not to forget that, on the same day, my little brother got a laptop for his birthday—he’s twelve. No need to mention how great my mood was when I went out to meet a boy. Well, two boys actually.)
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