Morjes!

Welcome to my blog. I write about fitting in, sticking out, and missing the motherland as a serial foreigner.

Many happy returns...

...to the doctor's office, apparently.

Today is my 25th birthday. I tell you that not to garner any congratulations, but to set the scene for the following story.

I got a phone call around lunch time. It was an automated, recorded message from my insurance company, reminding me to go in for my annual checkup.

That was it. No "Happy Birthday! And by the way, schedule your checkup." Just a terse "it's about time you saw your doctor."

I wouldn't even care except that I suspect their system is set up to call people on their birthdays as a way of ensuring they reach everyone once a year. If that's the case, the least they could do is tack on a friendly birthday greeting to their soulless reminder system.

Another birthday-related anecdote: A card from this same insurance company came in the mail for Miriam today. It was a birthday card. The problem is, Miriam's birthday was a month ago.

Strike two.

Say what?

What are the odds?