So, I am once again becoming increasingly morbid.
While I still worry about the deaths of those around me, I have also begun to worry about my own death.
Making sure that my wife knows where the life insurance information is, stuff like that. Worrying about whether or not they will all be okay if something happens to me.
I don't know if it's because of my on-going (and very minor, completely non-life-threatening) string of medical problems, or if it's just another expression of the seemingly unending, crushing depression I'm suffering from these days, but it's on my mind an awful lot.
What's weird, and what makes me think it's depression-related, is that I don't worry about them missing me, or being sad - I worry that they won't have the password for the bill payment system.
I don't worry about things that I haven't said - I worry that I haven't left very good notes. Hopefully if I work on that over the next week or two it will let me move on to worrying about something else (no doubt equally morbid).
On the upside, I am getting a lot of reading done.
Update: Oddly, It was about a year ago that I wrote the entry I linked to above. Maybe I have seasonal affective disorder...)
Sorry to write about this here... I couldn't find an email address to send it to you personally. I'll now go ahead and make my comment, which is: the only Daniel Ash CD you have in your collection is "Foolish Thing Desire"?????? You've got to be kidding me! Go online and track down a copy of "Coming Down" immediately, lest you die!
I have spoken.
paz
Hmmmm...is it depressing? I should probably avoid depressing at the moment...