For the longest time I was the only one who came into the office on Saturdays. Everyone else works from home on that day, but not me. I don't really have somewhere at home I would be able to work, anyway, and I live in the same town I work in, so that's no big deal for me.
Recently, though, someone else started showing up to work on Saturdays, too. I guess I can't work naked anymore. But at least if something happens to me, I won't have to wait until Monday before I'm found.
I think about this all the time. I'm not afraid of death, but I really, really don't want to die at work on the off chance that there really is an afterlife and I get stuck haunting the office for the rest of my unlife. That would suck a great big dick.
I'm getting up there in age. I'm almost ten years away from the age Mom died at. I'm about fifteen years away from the age that Dad died at. The clock is probably ticking on me. I expect to die of a heart attack, but I hope it doesn't happen at work. Before, if I had a heart attack on a Saturday at the office, I would probably die. There wouldn't be anyone there to call 911. No one comes into the office on Sundays, so whoever is the first person to get in on Monday would find me dead.
And with my luck, I probably would have a heart attack on the toilet, so it'll probably be the first guy to go to the bathroom who finds me, and who knows when that would be? I'd already be a ghost haunting the stall I died in. I'd be able to watch the paramedics haul my corpse away while I have to live with the reek of shit and piss forever.
But not now. At least if I have a heart attack in the office on a Saturday, someone will hear me collapse. Someone will figure out that I need an ambulance. I might even survive. I have my doubts, but who knows? Just so long as I don't die in the office. On the road to the hospital? Sure. At the hospital? I'd rather not, but I prefer it to the office.
It occurs to me now that, unless you die in a very violent manner or go missing, someone is going to find your corpse. Even if you're on your deathbed, someone will eventually check on you and realize you're gone, whether it's a relative or a nurse. So I hope I die doing something weird. Give that person a story to tell for the rest of their life.
One can dream.
No comments:
Post a Comment