Before the end of the world arrives…

Well, apparently there’s a rumor that someone was smart enough to outsmart God. Yup, they figured out when the rapture was going to happen, and this time they’re correct! Really! It’s tomorrow! Yes, we can know this!  

From what the reports say, a particular person I’m leaving nameless because they’re deceased and I believe in respecting the… oh, wait. I thought that wiki picture was taken post-mortem. My bad. Anyway, he supposedly has decoded God’s biggest secret. See, the Bible I read says that “about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father” (Mark 13:32) . I always assumed that we would never know when these grand events would happen, if even the angels and the Son of God don’t know. Apparently I missed the fine print along the way that made an exception? In fact, all of us did with the exception of Mr. Nameless.

At first I wondered if he was maybe a different species that wasn’t included in the “no one knows” reference. Like a vampire, or a zombie, or a narwhal. But that just didn’t make sense. Because there’s more than one of each of those species and I’m sure one of them would’ve already gloated about knowing… So how does he know, if he isn’t the exception???

I’m working on a hypothesis. It involves the obvious fact that he’s past his expiration date and probably lacking in energy. Probably some random Thursday someone gave him a good ol’ energy drink. And he went wild. He started listening to an audio Bible. In a foreign language. Backwards. And the message was spoken clearly to him in this moment. As clearly as he could hear anyway. Thursdays he doesn’t wear his hearing aids.

Of course, I could be wrong. It could have been a Tuesday?

So, in preparation for the end of the world, I thought I’d share a few things that I’ve been holding in. It’s not quite a Festivus ‘Airing of Grievances’, per se. More of an admission. So without further adieu…

I still firmly believe in my mind that, should I get over my hatred for wearing polo shirts,  I could be a great pro-golfer. I haven’t played consistently since high school, which was um, a little while ago. But I loved it then. And getting a trophy for a hole-in-one made me believe in the miraculous powers of my golfing skills. (My golfing skills that are no longer apparent to the general population. But I know I still possess them. Like how in the movie Hook, Peter finally remembers that he’s Peter Pan and he can fly. And that’s despite the fact he’s a bitter, middle-aged lawyer. I know I can have that moment where I realize I can still fly, er…golf.)

I believe inanimate objects aren’t actually dull and lifeless, that they in fact can have feelings and think thoughts. And their predominant feelings are of hatred towards me. They are constantly scheming how to better ruin my life. Example; the garage door. Every day it will not shut for me. For my husband and kids? Sure. Me? No. It will get to three inches above the concrete and decided that it’s time to raise itself again. And no, there is nothing blocking it. Give me a little credit, please?

I also believe my very aged, very ugly washing machine is still running only because it knows I love it. I respect it even. She’s a winner, and I tell her she should live forever.

If that doesn’t make you question my sanity, I will now admit that I believe that in naming my car “Problem Child”, it has become one. A week after I named my laptop “Trouble”, its screen died. Inanimate? Hardly.

Only odd numbers are worth dealing with. Even numbers are awful. My reigning, all-time favorite number was dethroned because my childhood nemesis took it as their jersey number. I’m still bothered by that.

If you make me wear a turtle-neck, I will die. I believed that when I was five, and do now.

I just realized this list will definitely make ‘death with dignity’ impossible for me. Even more so, ‘life with dignity’ is now not an option. (I technically think I lost that option years ago).

So,  if the world survives to see May 22, please forget you read any of this. Ah, who am I kidding? I can handle the embarrassment, at least until the world ends on December 21, 2012.

Have any last words you’d care to share?

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