That said, I am glad that they did not.
I have always considered the mid-century mark to be some kind of landmark year, but 40 seems to be the age where everyone makes a big deal about. When I look back at the quiet passing of 25 years, I should not be surprised that 50 would be treated as just another year, as will 75.
I suppose if I make it to the century mark, I can expect cake or be justly miffed if it does not happen. I want it to be a good cake, not some crumbly, dry, gluten-free, low-fat shit that they are likely to serve in a nursing home.
It is not that I am disappointed by the lack of hullabaloo over my birthday because I prefer for them to slide by largely unnoticed. The next forty-nine are free to do so as well, but there had better be fireworks on my hundredth.
That said, I'll see you all in fifty years. Bring your fork.