Hold Please.

I know many of you have started to panic because I haven't posted anything in awhile, and I also know that is a lie. But I have been quiet lately, as I've become absorbed in another writing project which requires all 6 pairs of hands on my typewriter that looks like a laptop. Anyway, I hate to leave you hangin' more than you do, so here's a blog I just regurgitated from the bowels of my crusty archives. It's one of my worst ever. ENJOY!

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Dear Friends,

There are only 5 things I fear:

1. Snakes
2. Nutcracker dolls
3. Axe murderers
4. Developing a peanut allergy
5. Dying from a rare diabolical disease that is disguised as a cold

I am currently living in the midst of fear number 5. Now as some of you may already know, I am a bit of a hypochondriac, or as my dad started calling me in 1988 when I organized my own funeral after I drank some expired milk, his "little fruitcake." So when I get sick, I become obsessed with finding out what is going to kill me this time and wondering who will come visit my grave. This year so far I've had endometriosis, melanoma, tapeworm, deep vein thrombosis, and dry mouth.

But last week I developed another life-threatening illness that has this fruity nut girl quite confounded. It started out as a fever and sore throat (spinal meningitis), then my joints were sore (lupus), then my head was clogged and nose was stuffy (infected with vicious migrant ants from Arizona), then I had fluid in my lungs and chest pain (pulmonary fibrosis), and now I'm in the coughing/sinus headache/upset stomach/Roy Orbison syndrome/fatigue phase (hibernation sickness)--only I have no princess and wookie to nurse me back to health. I'm left with green tea, pseudophedrine, prescription ibuprofen, and whining.

So what's going to be on my death certificate? My mom says I have bronchitis. My co-worker says lyme disease. My sister says it's just a cold. My brother says I should stop shooting snot rockets at him. WebMD tells me I have chronic obstructive pulmonary disease and that Roy Orbison may have impregnated me with a globule containing 5 generations of vicious migrant ants from Arizona. Damnit, Orbison, this is NOT how I want to go! Well I guess I'll see him and the rest of his Arizona ants in hell soon enough.

It was nice knowing you all. Please be sure to try the hummus platter at my funeral reception--I'm having it special ordered.

Take care now,

The Late Lady Stabson