We Always Think We Have Time

Break out the cotton! This column represents the 104th week that this has been mailed out to the world. For those that like to use more conventional measurements, 104 weeks makes it the second anniversary.

I should be celebrating. I have had parts of this thing written in my head for weeks. I was going to tell you all about some upcoming changes and plans for moving forward. It was going to be a hilarious masterpiece of nostalgia and exciting progress.

Things change.

Yesterday, a friend died. And while my first thoughts were about her husband and two young kids, my next thoughts were that she was only 46, and this was all too sudden and unexpected.

But the thoughts that came after, the thoughts that I dwelt on, had nothing to do with her.  All I could think about was me. And not about how much I will miss her, which I will, even though, I admit, we weren’t especially close. What I was thinking was that I will turn 40 this week, and that’s only six years difference.

This opened up the Pandora’s box of horrible thoughts. I kept imagining dying alone in my house, likely on a day when my underwear were not so fresh, and all the threats of mothers everywhere coming true.

And that was enough to make me review the disaster area which is my house, and worse than the potential humiliation of un-fresh underwear, if I hadn’t already expired, I’d have died of embarrassment.

Then I became afraid that not only was I repugnant enough to have scared away all potential spouses, probably no one would even notice or miss me.  I wondered if there would be anyone to deal with the mundane parts. Then
I wondered if they were someone who had ever thought kindly of me, and whether having to deal with the vastness of the mess I had left them, would they still have kind thoughts about me?

As my worry grew, I frantically started cleaning.  Not even the fact that I’m more than 20, 000 words behind on my novel could distract me from my new priority of not being remembered for my poor housekeeping. Or at least, not being a burden to whomever was left behind.

I spent most of my weekend in a funk, which, if I’m being honest, described more than my underwear.

Reaching the end of the second year has not been easy, and I know that I would not have gotten to this point without all of you, who take the time to read the silly things I send out, and who often take a moment to send me a note of encouragement. Our time is far too short, and before I forget, I wanted you to know I’m thinking of you all, and I’m grateful for you.  My wish is that you get to spend the holiday with those you love, and that you have the opportunity to let them know how important they are to you.