One thing that stands out in my mind is worth documenting here, for posterity. Our office has a splendid intranet portal which has all sorts of things to keep oneself preoccupied should blogging / LJing / trolling on flickr /wikipedia and engaging in other trivial pursuits not suit one’s fancy.
It is on this very page that there is a link which redirects you to a page which shows the birthdays for the day, and it is only on one day of each year that I click onto the page, see my pale, gaunt face (I was ill on my first day of work due to some side effects to an antibiotic that I had taken for a chest infection, which resulted in my hands being shaky – I thought I had Pa kinson’s and wanted to email Michael J Fox and all that. Thankfully that did not happen.) on the birthday page and close the window.
On the day of my birthday, I invariably end up getting arbit happy birthday mails with flowers, birds and some gooey sappy messages from unknown people and it is at this point in time that I don’t know whether to praise or abuse them, simply because I am not sure whether to appreciate the fact that they’re trying to wish some rank stranger or that they are so jobless that they are in a position to gladly do so.
