Happy birthday to me

It's raining, it's pouring,

I turned 40 years old yesterday.

I'm a bit, well, unsettled by my turning 40. I'm not as freaked out as I thought I would be but I”m not sure it has hit me yet. I haven't sat down to write much lately probably for a couple of reasons. I got a computer upgrade and that left me without my computer for a couple of weeks and December was a killer in the busy department. I'm officially unemployed but between working at the vet clinic and working in Houston at my sister's catering company, throwing in Christmas and new year's I'm wiped OUT! I also really didn't want to sit down and ponder all the things that were and about to happen to me. I don't want to think about my lack of accomplishments that I was supposed to do by the time I was 40. Having a baby, a career that I can be proud of making loads of money, and feel like a true grown-up. It's not that I am unhappy. I'm not. Some days I think I am one of the luckiest and most content people I know. Then I think I don't really want to try any harder to have some type of high stress, big money, work all the time careers. And I wonder if maybe I am way too selfish to have a baby and that maybe this is the best thing for me. Sitting down to try and “hash” this out has held no appeal for me so I haven't written. Tonight I felt compelled to start and see where it might take me.
Why does life seem to have been so much easier when we were younger? Or is that just our mind wishing so?
My sweetie tries so hard to make me happy and sometimes I am such a bitch about it. I always seem to want more. Someday he's going to stop trying and tell me to fuck off. What a nasty day that will be.

40. The scariest thing about it is soon I will be 41. Then 44. Then 49. I wonder how fast time is going to pass now?