It's my birthday this week, and I intend to ignore it.
I have the right!
I'll close my eyes, plug my ears and sing "la la la la la!" Whoosh! See. My birthday's gone.
Call it denial. Call it anything you like. But this birthday isn't going to register on the Carnett Richter Scale of Birthdays. Not like that momentous first birthday did, way, way back. Or the one 35 years later when my beautiful wife, Hedy, surprised me with a huge birthday bash. Or the 65th when Hedy threw another fête and most of my living friends and relations showed up.
But, sorry folks, I'm not into it this year. It's my intention to let this one glide by without notice. A freighter in the night.