I have a horrible cold/flu. Again. This is my second this year. Argh. I hate being sick. Like really hate it. I can't sleep. I'm not hungry. I have no energy. And there is nothing on TV during the day. Sigh. And I hate staying home from work because I know I am going to miss out on something. Which is another illness all its own.
My nose is running. My chest hurts. My head hurts. My ears are all plugged up so I keep going "What? Huh?" to everyone. My teeth feel like they are too big for my mouth. Do you know that feeling? And I can't get that nasty metal taste out of my mouth. And I really hate taking medicine. Makes me feel all disconnected and slow. But I really want to feel better. Gah!
But I am pretty sure death is imminent.
Ubes, please don't remarry right away. And fold the laundry before you let your mom in the house. And if you do remarry right away, don't let my babies call her mom. That will just piss me off and cause me to haunt you. And I'll be mean about it too. Like I'll hide your car keys and phone and stuff. And I'll steal your beer. Yeah. That should keep you single for a while.
But when you do decide to remarry, pick someone nice. And not one of my friends. It makes me nervous how you are always talking about how organized Jovina is. Or how awesome Jessica's soup was. Or how clean Erin's house is. Pick someone totally new. Okay?
And tell my babies nice things about me. I don't want the only thing they remember is that I never folded the laundry and I fed them too much frozen pizza. Tell them about all the time I spent planning their birthday parties. Tell them about all the nights we stayed up late working on their school projects. Tell them I used to bake the best cookies in the world.
And please bury me in something nice and flattering. A bright color. Like hot pink. I look good in pink. And make sure I am wearing matching accessories. And that my makeup looks natural and not like I'm going out to a club or something. And don't even bother with shoes because no one will be able to see my feet, but make sure my toes are painted nice. I can't stand the thought of going to eternity with ghetto toes. Or maybe I should just forget about the toes and wear my black boots? That's a tough call. Oh well, you decide.
And please don't go out and get a motorcycle just because I am dead. You want to orphan your children?? I mean really. Don't make any foolish, selfish decisions. And finish traveling the world. Go see everything we talked about seeing. I will be with you in your heart. So don't have sex with strange foreign women, because that would be gross and just plain awkward for all of us.
And I love you. Thank you for putting up with me all these years. It's been fun. I think I hear Jesus calling my name. Or it could be one of the kids, I don't know. My ears are all plugged up, remember? Either way, I have to go. I should unload the dishwasher before I die so your mom won't see a sink full of dirty dishes. She's already going to be shocked about the laundry and the crumbs on the kitchen floor. Dirty dishes would just send her over the edge and next thing you know she's yacking in my ear as we wait in line at the pearly gates. And then who's going to make sure the kids eat every day?
Yeah. That's what I thought.
On second thought, maybe I should just not die.