Strange afternoon mentally. Thoughts of death and dying. My death and dying, Will I really die one afternoon, in my chair, covered with my favorite quilt, alternately napping and listening to a favorite old Sci-Fi audiobook through my Bose headphones? Sort of my version of Carlton’s Final Exit.
Guess I am just having a “Nobody is promised tomorrow…” moment.
Thunderstorm here at this instant. And, at The Asylum, Friday is steak night in the Bistro. Maybe, I am at least promised one last Petit Filet & Bordelaise sauce – really rare, please.