i follow tony robbins on twitter, and earlier he asked what we would do if we knew this was our last day here. i've heard that question before. we all have. it's everywhere. but for some reason, tonight i thought about it.
if i only had 24 hours, i'd call someone up and confess i'm falling in love. nothing huge, nothing grandiose. just quiet, and warm, and there. i'd fill up the Funkmobile and drive to the coast, sit at Hug Point on the huge rock at the south end and write haiku. i'd call up suzi and *t* and li'l *c* and tell them how much i love and miss them. i'd fix myself a huge, honkin' plate of spaghetti and say to hell with celiac disease. oh! and cake. yellow cake with homemade chocolate frosting. i'd buy neat new toys for my cat and give him catnip and just give him the happiest day with me he's ever had.
the next, natural question is, "so then why aren't you doing those things now? why wait until your last day on earth?"
well, to be honest, aside from the whole eating spaghetti and confessing something akin to love (which is probably more like trust, which considering it's me we're talking about, it's probably even more miraculous), i already do those things. i call up the people i love. i tell them i love and miss them. i make sure my kitty is the happiest kitty on the planet. everything else takes care of itself.
right now, i should be taking care of me. and i'm tired. i'm headed to bed.