It was my birthday this week. I love my birthday, which is childish, I know. Had a shit last 6 months with cancer and major surgery.
DH doesn’t work at the moment and money is tight.
We had bought some slightly nicer than usual food for a birthday lunch but instead by surprise DH took me out for lunch to an eye-wateringly expensive restaurant. It was really nice but obviously I couldn’t entirely relax as I was a bit worried about the expensive.
However, no gift at all. DH knows I love flowers (and am fine with supermarket ones), novels by specific, prolific authors, and coffee, which all make lovely, inexpensive gifts and any of which I would have been delighted by.
He is not at all tight just incredibly disorganised which I find a bit thoughtless.
I don’t know what my post is saying, really. Sorry.