Things To Look Forward To
Kathy is one of the very first people I met online. She lives many states away and is very unlike me in many ways but despite this we are best friends.
She exercises cheerfully. She eats in moderation and sometimes forgets to eat at all. She not only starts home improvement projects, she finishes them! I exercise grudgingly and rarely. I eat tasty treats I could do without and sometimes forget to stop. I pulled all the wallpaper off the bathroom walls and still haven't finished getting the wallpaper paste off, much less painted the bathroom - and it's been almost three years. (Don't want to be hasty, right?)
Good thing Kathy and I have the same dry sarcastic sense of humour and taste in books and music. We've been good friends for years now and that's without the benefit of proximity. I can see us being friends well into the future - though I think her future looks a bit different than mine.
Kathy will be the wiry nonagenarian that outlives us all. She'll race 4 or 5 laps around the nursing home every day. And every three or four days (if she remembers) she'll eat a crust of bread or maybe an apple. She'll be snarky to the nurses and a big hit with the visitors. Packages will arrive for her from all over the globe as she trades music and stuff with her online friends who range in age from late teens to mid-70's. She'll refer to all of them as 'kids'. The day she finally passes on, the local government will declare a Day of Mourning (though some of the Leaders will secretly rejoice because they've been scared of her for years.)
It's a lot better than where I'll end up.
I picture myself living in a refrigerator box under a bridge near the woods somewhere. I'll spend my days scavenging through trash bins in the nearby town and dodging meddling social workers. When I talk about "my kitties" I'm referring to the feral cat colony that I share my underpass with, and which I wish would in return share some of the their pigeons with me, the selfish beggars. In the winter in place of a coat, I'll wear umpteen layers of shabby clothing, consisting mostly of holey sweaters, but also including the occasional discarded tablecloth or throw rug, topped off by a crocheted purse that I'll wear as a hat. (The handles on the purse will come in handy for tugging it down on my head and holding on to it when the wind picks up.) The day I die, the cats will look at each other with one little thought in their sweet fuzzy little hearts, "Tonight, we feast like Kings."
She exercises cheerfully. She eats in moderation and sometimes forgets to eat at all. She not only starts home improvement projects, she finishes them! I exercise grudgingly and rarely. I eat tasty treats I could do without and sometimes forget to stop. I pulled all the wallpaper off the bathroom walls and still haven't finished getting the wallpaper paste off, much less painted the bathroom - and it's been almost three years. (Don't want to be hasty, right?)
Good thing Kathy and I have the same dry sarcastic sense of humour and taste in books and music. We've been good friends for years now and that's without the benefit of proximity. I can see us being friends well into the future - though I think her future looks a bit different than mine.
Kathy will be the wiry nonagenarian that outlives us all. She'll race 4 or 5 laps around the nursing home every day. And every three or four days (if she remembers) she'll eat a crust of bread or maybe an apple. She'll be snarky to the nurses and a big hit with the visitors. Packages will arrive for her from all over the globe as she trades music and stuff with her online friends who range in age from late teens to mid-70's. She'll refer to all of them as 'kids'. The day she finally passes on, the local government will declare a Day of Mourning (though some of the Leaders will secretly rejoice because they've been scared of her for years.)
It's a lot better than where I'll end up.
I picture myself living in a refrigerator box under a bridge near the woods somewhere. I'll spend my days scavenging through trash bins in the nearby town and dodging meddling social workers. When I talk about "my kitties" I'm referring to the feral cat colony that I share my underpass with, and which I wish would in return share some of the their pigeons with me, the selfish beggars. In the winter in place of a coat, I'll wear umpteen layers of shabby clothing, consisting mostly of holey sweaters, but also including the occasional discarded tablecloth or throw rug, topped off by a crocheted purse that I'll wear as a hat. (The handles on the purse will come in handy for tugging it down on my head and holding on to it when the wind picks up.) The day I die, the cats will look at each other with one little thought in their sweet fuzzy little hearts, "Tonight, we feast like Kings."
posted by Ms. Cats Meow at 8:03 PM
2 Comments:
If you dare try to die that way, I'll kill you.
Hmmmm....don't really intend to die that way - it's just a scenario I could see. Of course that begs the question of which way you'd prefer I tried to die? :P
Post a Comment
<< Home