The best way to die

Before all this happened, a co-worker and I had a big discussion about whether it was better to loose someone in a long, drawn out death- the benefit being that you know the death is coming and you have time to prepare yourself, wrap up all those loose ends, and say all those things that need said; or if it’s better to loose someone all at once. To have them ripped away quickly, like a band-aid.
He decided that he wants to know when a death is coming, and as soon in advance as possible. So if you are planning anything, please let him know! I, on the other hand, decided it was better for a person to be taken by surprise. No long illness, no painful injury, just one day they’re gone. Well, now I’m really getting to think about that. So far, I am still staying with my quick, but far from painless, departure.
One thing I have decided is: I don’t want to die in my sleep. I want to die doing something completely moronic. Something that people will read about and think- “Hmm, yeah. She really should have known better.”
I want to go crashing through to the other side like someone running through a sliding glass door. I want my dying thought to be, “I really thought this would work. It looked so easy when they did it in that cartoon.”

This blue shirt

This blue shirt. I will never wear this blue shirt again. You know how you have those favorite articles of clothing? I had my Lucky Friday Panties that I wore every Friday, religiously, until they were completely obscene and I would have been completely mortified if I had ever been in an accident wearing them. But they were my LUCKY Friday panties, so of course, that would have never happened, but I ended up tossing them anyway. I guess what I am saying is that when good things happen while you are wearing something, you give that piece of clothing a little bit of the credit.
And so, I hate this blue shirt. I came home from the store and my mom’s face was pale and blotchy. She told me sit on the couch. I sat, bracing myself for the news that my grandmother had passed. It was a bit of a shock because the last news I heard, she was doing better. Then my mother blurted the words “Jimmy’s dead.” And I was wearing this blue shirt. And I hate it.