Congratulations Specter of Age!

You creep and creep and never sleep, eternally sitting on our shoulders, whispering promises of death, of sloth, of infertility in our ears, but hey, here's the thing.  You're just a person like anyone else, and as a person, you've got feelings and needs and whatnot, and a day off wouldn't go amiss.

So a few months back you set up a little personal day for yourself, and today, wouldn't you know it, is that personal day.  So when you wake up and roll over in bed and, for the first time in a century, don't have to get up?  You'll give yourself a neat little high five.  And when you pull yourself up out of bed just before ten AM to have your first cigarette and cup of coffee of the day, you'll feel a peace you haven't felt in years.

The day will pass in line with this: you'll quietly stumble about your home, which is a giant swirling nebulous mass of darkness, and then, after a while, you'll leave your place to go deal with chores.

You LOVE chores.

You'll shuffle out of your nebulous time mass and, boom, you won't be more than a parsec away before Shemp the Time Weasel, Fran Turkington and Basel Baselius all group hug on you while you're trying to hop the Rainbow Road to Safeway (there's an interdimensional Safeway where you do most of your shopping).  They'll dogpile on you and, after a few minutes of cheering and jeering, they'll force you to come out with them to a bar, where they'll proceed to get you so drunk, you'll forget to make the world age for a day.

You don't technically have a birthday, but your friends will all act like this is your big day, because they know they won't have another chance for a long, long time.  So when you're vomiting sangria into a toilet just outside the Bennigan's to the left of the End of Time, remember: this is what fraternal love feels like.

Congratulations Specter of Age!