So apparently my 2 year blogiversary — that’s the cutsey name blog people came up with for a blog anniversary — like TomCat or BradGelina — get it? — passed nearly a month ago without me even noticing.

And that, my friends, is why I’m a crappy girl.

It’s true.

When we first got together, it was Justin who reminded me about the anniversary of the day we first met.  And not just the first year, but most subsequent years.

Combine that with the fact that I would never remember anyone’s birthday if it weren’t for Facebook and that my detachment from having any real “home” has caused me to be about as sentimental as Lord Voldemort on Ritalin, and we have one very crappy girl on our hands.

I mean, aren’t girls supposed to be good at remembering special dates?  And aren’t girls supposed to buy special gifts for people “just because” and carry Hallmark discount cards and have wrapping paper stations?

I neither do nor have any of these things.

I still have a birthday card that I bought for my mom over 2 years ago.

I’ve never been good with calendars, or planners, or blackberries, or reminders.  I can do lists, but I usually only make it 1/3 of the way through them before I get bored and move on.  I have approximately 37 draft blog posts that I’ve started and never finished.  The polish on my right big toenail has been chipped for 3 days.

I tell you these things not only so you can understand what we’re working with here, but so you can feel better about yourself if you’re better than me.  Or good enough about yourself if you’re as bad as me.

Or something.

Because honestly, this is just me.  And the fact that I let the exact date, 2 years later, that I started this blog roll by without even realizing it, only proves it.

And guess what?

The world didn’t end.  The blog didn’t end.  Wordpress hasn’t started writing me nasty letters because I missed a ubiquitous blogiversary post.

So really, I just forgot it, and I don’t feel bad.

And because I don’t feel bad, I don’t feel like a failure.

And because I don’t feel like a failure, I think that maybe mentally, I’ve made some improvements over the past year.

And if we’re going to bother measuring time, those are the things — self-improvement achievements, relationship communication milestones, number of stamps in my passport this year — that are worth remembering.

A date is just a date.  A year is just a year.

It’s what we do with them that counts.

Annapolis, MD.  April 4th, 2012.  Taken with my iPhone.