So, this weekend, my internal odometer clocked another revolution around the sun and I promptly turned to dust. I must admit, I was a bit surprised. I knew it would probably happen eventually, but I thought it would be a more gradual process.
Was I concerned? Sure! As a pile of dust, I'd leave a pretty big mess all over the recliner. I probably wouldn't get to use the remote anymore. Obviously, my family would celebrate and immediately redistribute the becan and cheese.
I decided to make the best of it. I'd never been a pile of dust before and maybe I would like it. I scooped up some me and made dust elephants. (I'm not much of an artist.) It's a good thing I'm not allergic to me. I've known so many people who are.
I was starting to enjoy this. I mean, I didn't know how long I had before I was vacuumed up and tossed out, but then again, who does? I wondered if the inside of the vacuum cleaner bag would feel cramped. I got up and walked slowly so I didn't spread myself all over the house. I explained to my family that I had spontaneously turned to dust and they should probably not turn on a ceiling fan. They thought I should get a shower in order to make their cleanup easier.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered that I hadn't turned to dust after all. I just needed a shower. I know. I share your disappointment.
To make matters worse, the kids had already divided up the remaining becan and cheese.