Uncle Rico thinks it's a sign of being truly imbalanced. I think it's just being realistic. My one real fear about life is that by some freakish accident I'll out live the Phenom, and I will die alone and unnoticed. And, by unnoticed, I don't mean no obit or second line at my funeral. I mean, lying dead on the floor, slowly decomposing, perhaps the cats nibbling on my face, for some time before anyone bothers to realize the papers and mail have piled up.
Most of the time, I can ignore the nagging fear and carry on as if all is and always will be well. But, then, two things today leave me cringing. First, one of the retired stage hands from the Phenom's production is in the hospital. He was in the hospital for nearly a week before we learned of it. We took out an hour to go visit him today. He told us that we were the first people to visit or bring him anything. (We brought a card signed by cast members who remember this crew member and a smiley face balloon.) The Phenom thought I was silly for bringing the balloon - it is an old man after all -- but then after seeing how sparse the room was and how the balloon really did brighten, all was understood.
Then, tonight, I read an article about a man who was found in his comfy chair, in front of his t.v. which was still on, and he'd been dead a whole year. The only reason he was found now was because the freakish cold weather burst pipes.
I need to figure out a plan so that I don't become some "hmmm, that's weird" news story someday. Then again, perhaps this is the best motivation for taking over the planet - so that one day, people will notice I'm dead before the cats have a chance to eat my face.