Mumble-Mumble Years Old Today

I woke up.

It was just after 6 am.

I was tired.

Those damned birds were twittering outside the bedroom window.

I don't own a gun.

At 6 am, midway through the dawn-chorus when you are tired, really tired, that is when you really, really wish for a gun.

As I lay there in the early morning light a my mind raced. Thoughts came and went, none of which are repeatable here but mostly involved lots of little winged beasties being ... well, let's just say 'moved on'.

Eventually I got up. It was 7.45 am.

I fed the dogs, made myself a cup of coffee and went to watch the early morning TV news (on the BBC, because that lot on the 'other side' are rubbish).

I watched a woman playing a £3,000,000 violin and couldn't help but think "It's a piece of wood! Not even enough wood for a small fire! How could it have a price like that"?

I just wanted to trash it! Trample and jump up and down on it!

Then it dawned on me that I was feeling a little bit more grumpy than is usual for me. I was finding fault with anything and everything; the TV was too loud and too quiet (at the same time), the dogs were licking themselves too much (and too loud), my coffee was cold, and ... and ... and ...

Then I saw the envelope on the coffee table.

It had my name on it so, as you would expect of a grump, I ripped it to shreds, thus revealing the Birthday Card hidden within.

All became clear.

Grumpiness explained!

Birthday!

Mumble-mumble years old + 1.
  
I hate Birthdays!