On almost dying.

I woke up today feeling rotten.  Headache, nausea, the whole shebang.  Of course, I didn't think much of it, considering I'd helped my dear associates down the block knock out a few bottles of wine last night.  I did my usual day-off morning ritual of loafing about and surfing the web for a while before getting out of bed.

Still felt like ass by the time I stumbled downstairs, two bustling cats darting between my feet like minnows.  I could feel my head twinge as I grabbed their food from the fridge, and as I righted myself, I could smell a very familiar scent in the air.

Gas.

My stove was on.  Just one burner, set to low.  I knew what was last on that burner - risotto, that I had kept on low to keep warm.  At 7pm.  The previous night.  Which meant I'd had gas leaking in my house for 14 hours.

As I set to opening all the windows of my house, I tried to think of the deeper implications of this - how we must take responsibility of our environment, how fragile our lives really are and how we must take caution.  But the truth is, when you think about it, we're this close to being dead at any given point in time.  Sure, some of us are closer than others, but for all our posturing and preparation, do you ever really know when your time is up?

No sense in thinking too hard about it.  No sense in letting that fear paralyze you, in letting it keep you from going out there and doing your day to day.

So no revelations today.  No bursts of insight into mortality.  I'm just going to shake it off and carry on.  And pay a little closer attention to my stove.

That being said, this is pretty damn funny.  Cheers, bitches.