Circa 1970

I became a 36 year-old on November 2nd, though my Big Birthday Plan had been thwarted by... the Congressional Elections. Forget Watergate, Whitewater, even scandals involving homosexuality and interns...The people running our country have this brilliant idea that government employees should not be able to travel to meet with lowly assistant professors like myself until AFTER we find out who is elected.

Of course, this meant that my scheme to meet professional goals AND have a weekend getaway in Atlanta met an untimely demise. I suppose it's all for the best, because if my plan had been discovered, I could have ended up at the center of the newest political debaucle: Birthday-gate.

Despite avoiding Birthday-gate, I was still depressed. My fantasies of staying in a hotel better than Red Roof, and being able to write off creme brulee as a grant development expense were shot to hell. It doesn't take much for me to wind up questioning the meaning of life and the universe. So that's what I was doing on the eve of my birthday.

But I prayed for inner peace, woke up, and had a brilliant idea (yes, prayer does work, even for Buddhists). Instead of trying to make my birthday all about ME, why not try to help other people have a good day? Just thinking about the concept made me feel all warm on the inside.

This fantasy was also doomed to a short life--upon descending the stairs, my S.O. greeted me with "Where are your receipts? How do you think we can expect to get our finances together if you don't keep track of things?" Confronted with the reality of our checking account balance, he had forgotten my birthday.

My biggest accomplishment of my 36th year was overcoming this moment and continuing my quest to help people around me have a good day. And I did. And S.O. remembered my birthday by the end of the evening. And we had dinner and two martinis a piece.

The End.