Years ago when several members of the theater community died in quick succession, my friend Steve Garrett walked around glooming and dooming declaring that he would be the next one to go. I remarked that I could be the next one, for all anyone knew. He said, ” You had your chance and you didn’t take it!”
So either that hex or the fact that I have three plus decades of artificial sweetener coursing through my veins means that I may actually be around for awhile . I don’t seem to have the fear of instant demise that many people do. Maybe it’s the fact that I got a least a decade longer than anticipated (Refer here to previous musings where I wonder if perhaps this is the purgatory I am working my out of.) or maybe it’s the fact that I spend all day every day juggling monkeys that I no longer fear death.
Part of me wonders what words will survive me. Days like today when the most creative thing I have done is to draw a smiley face on a note.
It was a note to myself.
Here’s my current thought: “It was a day so wretched that she sought respite in the ghouls and gore of American Horror Story.”