I consider myself a very positive person, but in the back of my mind I am always trying to avoid a possible calamity. Walking down the stairs I imagine tumbling with child in hand, or even alone. Who would find me? Where would my kids be? Who would pick them up from school? Who would call for help? Would Brynn run into the road, or would someone take her? So I guess there’s this dark “what if” always in the back of my mind.
I thought it might be cool to blog these out. Turn something that actually causes me quite a bit of distress into something more… I don’t know… humorous. There are several sites out there where people bet on the death of others, kind of sick in a way, but some are incredibly ridiculous and quite funny… so I am going to term these incidents, which I hope to write about weekly, “My Death Pool” Series. Although not all situations could possibly end in death, still lies the question: “what if?” There are also sites out there where you can reserve to write obituaries for certain people…. so reserve mine today!
A thought crossed my mind in the shower yesterday as I was contemplating my building layout: how structurally sound is my apartment building? “What if” while showering on the third floor, in the bathroom off the master suite, those extra pounds that I have put on since our move to AZ were the straw that broke the camels back. Maybe those small cracks in the grout around my shower had allowed just enough water to weaken the skeletal system that holds my tub in place. Imagine soaked and soapy plummeting to your death, to be found naked and covered in suds in the bathroom of your neighbor. They would have to call in extra emergency service workers because I would be too slippery for the two-man job.
Maybe 10 feet wouldn’t kill me, but falling from the heavens all “nekkid” and bubbly while Bob OR Sheila sat quietly on the toilet reading their morning paper… would be worse than death. The only thing I could imagine that would be worse would be to actually keel over whilst on the pot. I can see it now, the emergency service workers trying to pry my Nintendo DS out of my clutched hands, as my alter ego stared on, tapping her foot in front of Nook’s shop.