I Won't Go So Far as to Say I Made It Proud

Earlier this week, I was out and about on my birthday, and looked down to check the time. Not on T-Hoe's in-dash clock. That thing is 22 minutes fast. I've left it that way since I retired. My school clock was set ahead to facilitate dismissal times among the campuses, so T-Hoe ran on school time. Not-Heaven, NO! School time was not 22 minutes fast. It was about 5 minutes fast, which crept to 7 by the end of the year. I didn't bother to reset T-Hoe's clock for a year or two. Do you know how TECHNICAL that is? I just kept in mind how far ahead it was. Like now. I know it's 22 minutes. That doesn't mean I want to do mental math every time I check if I'm on schedule.

Sometimes I just glance down at my Shaming Bracelet. It's like a watch, you know. A watch that also beeps with chastisement if you're not moving enough to meet your day's goal. Which is set at TWICE what it should be, thanks to Genius at Christmas perhaps forgetting that I'm an old lady, and programming it for a random sedentary millennial with an office job and lazy bone.

Anyhoo... I glanced down at my Shaming Bracelet to check the time, and didn't see the time! What I saw instead was THIS:

Ignore the reflection of my phone taking the picture. And also my crepey wrist-skin. Or as The Pony would say, my creepy wrist-skin.

I'm pretty sure my Shaming Bracelet was NOT suggesting that I eat an emergency cupcake. I'm pretty sure my Shaming Bracelet was wishing me Happy Birthday.

That was even more heartwarming than earlier in the day, when the secretary from our financial advisor's office called to wish me a Happy Birthday. You'd think the insurance agent could have had his secretary call. It's not like it costs anything.