After years of being on the road and playing the same songs over and over, I hate to have to admit it to you, but sometimes, you know, you just kinda go on auto pilot. While you are having a fabulous retro moment swaying back and forth to Mmm Mmm Mmm thinking “I was 2 years old when this song came out”, I’m thinking “I wonder if they have free breakfast at the hotel” or “Will I be able to blame this fart on Dan”, or, most often, “Hmm, wonder what kinds of freak accidents could befall me while doing regular mundane activities.
I thought about that last one a lot. I still do. It’s part of what makes me, “Me”. So very imaginative, neurotic, and unlikely to sky dive.
I have thought about these potential calamities, frequently, and although none of them have ever occurred (knock injection molded plastic) they still might happen. And when they do, I will be able to say “I told you so”. But you might not be able to make out what I’m saying though my full body cast and morphine induced slobber slur.
Here are some of the things I worry about:
Other top real or imagined threats are quicksand, sink holes, having a spider lay eggs under my skin, getting a perm, norovirus, ingrown toenails and ruptured ovarian cysts.
I’m a frightened woman.
