As Russ pointed out, today's my birthday. What better way to celebrate than by indulging myself? I have to admit my facial yesterday was part writing reward, part birthday present. I also treated myself foodwise. Last night, I baked a special breakfast bread: orange dough (with real mandarin oranges mixed in) with white chocolate chips, dried apricots, and chopped walnuts. It was so moist it was like eating cake! We also had strawberries on the side. For lunch, I had rotini with my own custom cheese sauce; it's one of my favorites. The company I work for brought in an Oreo ice cream cake. (The smokers were gone for the day, so we wound up using a flint and a Bunsen burner to light the candles.) And tonight Eugene's going to cook dinner for me when he comes home. He won't tell me what's on the menu, but he showed me berries of various types, which I presume are dessert. As long as he doesn't try to serve me an eggplant-and-tomato casserole for the main course, I'm sure it'll be good.
I've also been indulging some of my other senses: I've been listening to my favorite Beatles songs, wearing my favorite scent, starting a new book, and wearing some nice jewelry. Perhaps these are small treats, not to compared to going out to the bars and getting drunk. That's just not my style, and if you're reading this entry expecting that, you'll be disappointed. I get more pleasure out of what I do than out of drinking anyway.
Eugene just called to tell me he'll be home in a few minutes, so I'll sign off for the evening so I can spend it with him.