Today is Toby’s birthday. He is 27 years old. He’s just a little dude. Right now he is out trying to find us something to consume other than instant coffee. (I really should have gone with him, but I’m tired and I’m doing our laundry as it’s finally not raining here on the big apple.)
If you are an unfortunate member of the mihow cell phone club, you were probably phoned at some obscene hour last night and asked to stop whatever it is you were doing and celebrate Toby’s birthday. We may have left you messages. We may have even spoken to you. I’m not sure. Because I was playing Galaga when this idea was conceived.
Anyway, it’s Toby’s birthday. And I love him. I adore him, quite honestly. He pretty much rescued me three years ago. And, for that, I literally owe him my life.
Happy Birthday, my sweet and lovely Toby Joe.