Today, I jogged into my tennis lesson about five minutes late. It's one of those days when I'm five minutes behind on everything, have to be a zillion places at once and feel like I'll never catch up and am pretty sure I'm coming down with a head cold. Anyway, there are two of us in this tennis class together, and, as I hopped in, my partner yelled "You're late!" and lobbed a ball. I said "I have a good excuse! It's my birthday!"
The instructor said, "Hey, happy birthday, let's hit some backhands (my only shot that's consistently fierce)." That was a nice present.
The partner said, "Wait, let me guess... the big one? The big 4-0?"
I went through a lot of expletives in my head before I realized that I'm probably stuck with this woman all year, and, as tennis partners go, she's not so bad. So I pasted a smile on my face and said, sweetly, "Not quite yet. I'm 34."
I think the instructor was trying hard not to laugh.
We rallied well for the remaining hour and twenty-five minutes. I am very much looking forward to showing the Guv how finally, after playing tennis off and on for more than half my life, I can hit topspin.
As far as birthdays go, it is nice to say that I am quite happy today. I'm not quite sure how I figured out that playing tennis regularly would make me a happier person, but it does. I hope I still enjoy it this much when I'm actually 40.
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