I like being online at 3 a.m. It feels as if you’re privy to life while the rest of the world sleeps. But like anything there’s a downside as in…be careful what you Google.
Sweet and funny animals are one thing, the medical profession is another since if you’re not careful, you’ll have your will made out before daybreak.
If my friend Ed hadn’t talked me off the roof, I’d be convinced I was dying. You ask a simple question like, how come my legs cramp while I’m sleeping, and next thing you know, you have polio. Yes, you’re FDR in Chanel Night Cream and Brooks Brothers pajamas.
Your heart begins to race like that Maserati you always wanted while you start bequeathing precious belongings to friends and colleagues.
Camille, who I called at 4 to tell her the grim news and ask what she’d like said before cursing then slamming down the phone, “ARMANI…AND A LITTLE SLEEP.”
Now that was easy. I tried calling my other pal Joanne but all I got was her voice mail. She was smart…she has caller ID.
Ed, on the other hand, was up reading and quickly clipped my wings of worry like he was launching a ship…the S.S Doom left port gratefully without me on it.
I have to say I marvel at Ed’s patience. You see, I think I’m dying at least once a week and without fail he’s always available to resuscitate.
Our midnight imaginings can be our own worst enemy. As another friend said, “Susannah, as a writer you have a very vivid imagination so I can only recommend you keep it in check.”
Copy that, I said, feeling like an ass confiding my fear of polio along with bone cancer and MS.
Yes, have I mentioned one illness wasn’t enough for me. I needed multiples to make sure my hair, what little I have, stood on end.
After Ed reassured me anyone who can run five miles a day without dropping dead, could more than likely scratch off all those possibilities, I went to Starbucks.