by Madam Z
Sometimes when I’m really tired, I think that life isn’t worth living, because what’s the point, anyway, if all you get out of it is an aching back and you feel lousy all the time? Then I go to bed and think maybe I’ll feel better in the morning, but if that’s not likely, then I’d just as soon die in my sleep. It would be nice if I could be having a pleasant dream at the time, so I’d die happy, but what would be the point of dying then, when I’m finally feeling happy? And who knows, maybe that good dream will help me feel better when I wake up and I’ll be all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as my daddy used to say, before he got all depressed and blew his brains out. I know I shouldn’t think about that when I’m trying to go to sleep and have happy dreams though, and anyway I’m pretty sure I’d never do anything like that, because I’m not real fond of pain, as you can tell because of the way I carry on about my aching back and all. So next time I’m feeling bad, I’ll just take two aspirins and call you in the morning, and when I hear your sweet voice telling me you love me, I’ll know that life is worth living.
Madam Z, whose full catalog is here, wrote this a while ago, after a rare foray into heavy-duty housecleaning. She is much better now, although the house is not. (Do yourself a favor and check out her blog.)