I may not be completely healed yet from this fear thing. On Thursday I flew to Florida. It’s been well-documented here that I have a fear of flying. Okay, fear of crashing, fear of smashing into the ocean, fear of being eaten by sharks, fear of…you get the idea. But I am trying to recognize when I’m heading down the old, fearful path. I’m sorry to say, I’m starting to see familiar signs.
Question 1: When flying, does EVERYONE leave the spare key to the car out in a prominent place so their spouse can find the vehicle at the airport in case they don’t make it back? If not, why are you so RUDE? Do you know how much a spare costs now days?
Question 2: Am I the ONLY one that writes a sweet, poignant paragraph in my journal on the day I’m leaving in case I die so the pastor will have something to read as in, “On her last day, she was only thinking of others when she wrote, “I hope I can bring joy to everyone I meet today”? In reality, I can be sure I will die on the Sunday I write, “this is a boring sermon, I’m distracted, the guy in front of me looks like Sean Cassidy, hubba hubba.” Although that would make the funeral way more interesting.
Question 3: Have you ever Googled “Can you have a stroke without realizing it”? Well, you CAN. So perhaps THAT explains something you’ve been doing. Who’s crazy now? I just diagnosed your problem!
Whatever, so I’m crazy. Deal with it. I’m not the only one. John told me on this trip who he wants to conduct his funeral. I only have TWO wishes upon my death. If I write them now, I won’t have to leave instructions every time I leave to do something dangerous and crazy like flying Jet Blue.
1. Upon my death, no one is allowed in my house until my mother has had three days to clean, hide and destroy. She’ll know WHAT when she sees it.
2. Pictorial slideshows are permitted, but under no circumstances may my brother and sister be allowed to choose the photographs. I don’t want a twenty minute display of college debauchery and spring-break shenanigans for the world to see. Not that there are any photos of stuff like that. (Mom, see #1).
In a totally unrelated note, I hope my prayer group can get together this week. Some people have real issues.
3 thoughts on “Feel better about your own brand of crazy”
At least you are worrying about all the important things.
Feel Better about your own life…you are not a hormonal, adolescent, teenager who has no life whatsoever…
Isn’t it awesome to know that you have your mom to count on to clean your house and burn some things? My mom would invite everyone in to show them my house and stuff. If I were able (after death) to communicate my displeasure with her, then she would just say “it’s not my fault you can’t keep house.” Actually, I think it is partly her fault that I’m not a good house keeper, as I learned all of my domestic skills from watching her. Maybe I can count on you to point that out to everyone for me if need be. :> :> :>