Back in March I visited my P.O. box daily, eagerly anticipating a flood of cards containing money, checks, and "a little something" to commemorate that most monumental of birthdays, the 30th.
Sure, I got some bucks. But I also got this sharp kick to the shins:
I'm not really sure if I can say much more. It's old news, sure. But then again, apparently, so am I.