I Really Don't Have a Title

I'm going for a whole new look!

Just another man named Monday

You remember the Bangles' hit song "Manic Monday"? My friend Ashley doesn't, as I discovered when she belted out "just another man named Monday" over the actual lyrics. Have you ever discovered that the song you have been singing for years actually doesn't say what you thought it said? I sing all the time, and one of my favorites is "River of Dreams" by Billy Joel. It's just fun to sing. However, I sing the chorus and I usually am making half of it up as I go along. It's never the same song twice. What song have you done sung wrong?

When death comes knocking...

When death comes knocking, I will probably not hear the door the first time, because I will be be blowing my nose. Loudly. By the time I get around to opening the door, he will most likely be grumpy about the fact that I made him wait, and I'm sure he won't appreciate the fact that I am wearing a bleach-stained sweatshirt and stripy fuzzy socks. Too bad. I will excuse myself for a brief bout of what I can only call "whooping cough", and then turn to him with red face and blood-shot eyes.

"You don't look so hot", he says in what might be termed sympathy but really I think is disdain.

I will roll my eyes, albeit weakly. " You on lunch break or something?" I'll ask him, all the while feeling a little smug. I know he's never enjoyed a sandwich. He's also never gotten to experience post-nasal drip, but I still feel as though I have the upper hand.

He'll smile and move a little closer. Why is he here anyway? All this Mucinex is making me a little loopy; maybe I shouldn't have opened the door. He'll raise a bony finger, and extend it toward my hair, looping a little tendril around, almost tenderly. "You know why I'm here, don't you, Angela?"

"Ummm..no, not really. Are you running for office or something? That would be a fun election. Who would be your backers?" By this point I'm just making a fool of myself, but I don't really know what Death and I have to talk about..I have a cold or sinusitis or something. I pull out my little baggie of echinacea and tylenol.

Death looks a little annoyed that I am being so nonchalant. "I am here to bring to conclusion this, your time here in the world of the living," he says,drawing it out to make it sound sinister.

" Hold on a minute, buster," I say, pouring a glass of water. "I need to take these, immune boosters and fever reducers, to bring to an end the sore throat that is annoying the crap out of me."

His face contorts in rage, and with a growl of deepest loathing, he whirls around and throws open the door. "You may recover, but I will be seeing you again."

"Can't wait." To go to bed. He storms out, slamming the door behind him. His cape gets stuck in the door.

I am sick and obviously a little delusional!