[Pause for rambunctious clapping, kazoo blowing, and the release of a hundred white pigeons]
I make this bold assumption because I, the OneArmGirl, have been neurotically checking my post count for the past month to make sure I didn't bypass this auspicious week. I freaked out two weeks ago because I thought I'd missed it.
I am calling it my Centepostal Anniversary. 'Cent' for one hundred; 'postal' to commemorate the fact that I haven't gone postal with the upkeep of this blog and my weekly commitment to posting.
I do realize one hundred posts is no big deal to you post-crazies out there who publish something on your blog every ten seconds on average. I, however, am not a real blogger. I'm not even a real blog follower. Most blogs barely hold my attention––not because they aren't brilliant––but because I'm allergic to computer screens. Celebrating my own blog's centepostal is really more miracle than accomplishment.
I have a migraine. No, not because of blogging; no relation––I just happened to wake up with one today, on my centepostal. Though, come to think of it, it's been my habit since youth to get sick on birthdays, holidays, and other special occasions. Guess I don't deal well with excitement.
But since when did we let our disabilities ruin the party around here? Happy Centepostal to me and happy Centepostal to you!
I love you all.
Now I'm going to bed.
PS. Just kidding about the pigeons...and the kazoos...and as you may presume, not a lot of clapping going on around here, either.