Last week, I had a spate of losing things and then finding them exactly where they were supposed to be. Freaky to say the least. Most of the stuff was relatively minor -- my new pay card, my wallet, some cash, bank papers; things of that ilk. (The pay card was minor because it had not yet been activated.) The big thing was my teeth.
Through it all, I could hear you nagging, fussing, cussing -- just giving me hell for not keeping better track of my things.
Heck, you (and your mouth and opinion of me) were the reason I made myself learn to be so otganizes. A place for everything and everything in its place.
But what do you do when you've put everything in its place and it disappears then reappears exactly there?
I then had the misfortune -- or maybe good fortune -- to read a list of signs that a loved one could be letting you know they are near. The number one item was the disappearance and reappearance of significant items.
Except that I can't really see you doing that, especially not with my teeth. I even had to work all night one night without them. Just doesn't seem like something you'd do. (Charlie might, but he can go haunt someone else. You can tell him I said so.)
I have mixed feelings about that. I wish you were here; I like the idea if you being near; but I would so much rather think of you being off somewhere, just being. No work, no worries, love and joy and peace -- all that good stuff.
Yeah, I want you to help me with all my little problems but don't want you to kn ow about any of them. Especially not the ones I keep talking over with you.
Yeah,
Well, anyway, if it's you, send me flowers, okay? Like you did when you were first gone. Please don't hide things from me.
It's hard enough living every day without your help.
Without you.
Through it all, I could hear you nagging, fussing, cussing -- just giving me hell for not keeping better track of my things.
Heck, you (and your mouth and opinion of me) were the reason I made myself learn to be so otganizes. A place for everything and everything in its place.
But what do you do when you've put everything in its place and it disappears then reappears exactly there?
I then had the misfortune -- or maybe good fortune -- to read a list of signs that a loved one could be letting you know they are near. The number one item was the disappearance and reappearance of significant items.
Except that I can't really see you doing that, especially not with my teeth. I even had to work all night one night without them. Just doesn't seem like something you'd do. (Charlie might, but he can go haunt someone else. You can tell him I said so.)
I have mixed feelings about that. I wish you were here; I like the idea if you being near; but I would so much rather think of you being off somewhere, just being. No work, no worries, love and joy and peace -- all that good stuff.
Yeah, I want you to help me with all my little problems but don't want you to kn ow about any of them. Especially not the ones I keep talking over with you.
Yeah,
Well, anyway, if it's you, send me flowers, okay? Like you did when you were first gone. Please don't hide things from me.
It's hard enough living every day without your help.
Without you.
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