August 26, 2015

Serendipity? Or a Harbinger of Future Senility? You Decide

At my apartment in the capital city, I have a modest TBR (To Be Read) pile of books on my table.

They whisper "Read me, Slacker. Don't you want to open up our covers and read a good story?"

I've done my best to ignore them...until now.

It helps that I can drown out their voices by watching reality TV on TLC.

I think these books rearranged themselves to predict my future.

I do NOT recall stacking them in this order. And why did I purchase only THESE titles?

I'm so afraid.

Look at this:

Prophetic Books
Looks like an average stack of books. I have both novels and non-fiction. Nothing remarkable here, right?

Don't be fooled - it's much more incredible (and far more ominous) than that.

Check out the titles. They're predicting my future, and it's ugly.

From the top:


Yes, I am clumsy. But how do the books know this? Why are they highlighting the awkward way I perambulate and fall over imaginary obstacles?

Can you say "broken hip"?

The rest of the stack:

Don't FORGET to Write! (See, it's yelling at me!)
Everything I NEVER TOLD YOU - I only thought I told you. Obviously, I have the short term memory of a flea.

What were we talking about?

Oh, yes, the books. THE BOOKS KNOW.

My future involves physical disability and memory loss. 

Sure, you can say it's mere coincidence.

You're so gullible.

I know better.

Today, I know better. Tomorrow? I may not recognize my own face in the mirror.

The bottom book on the stack was the clincher.


You know, one of the first signs of senility is forgetting that you left a teapot on a hot burner, and you burn down the entire house...

Or you think you're preheating the oven, but you forget to turn it on, and dinner never cooks.

Exactly like I did tonight.

I've decided to embrace a future with limited abilities, and be proactive while I still have synapses firing.

I'm going to start lining up appointments to visit assisted living facilities and nursing homes.

My daughters offered to help. Should I be afraid?

My daughter Erin told me they'd never be able to afford a place that has an ocean view, so I don't have to worry about being pushed off a cliff.

Then daughter Shannon mentioned, however, that I should be concerned about hills.

I love those girls! They are so caring, worried about the view out my window like that.

I suggested a compromise - we'd only look at places with Valley in the name. That way, at least they'd get some exercise pushing me up the hill first.

I'm not worried at all.

It won't matter where they put me. I won't remember a word of our conversation once my predestined dementia hits...or tomorrow morning, whichever comes first.

The books told me so.


  1. Ha Ha, I do that with my stack of to-be-read books. Ominous foreshadowing. I think you should rearrange your books and add others to the stack: Successful Winner, Going All the Way, Charming Champion..

    1. I did not purposely buy books that predict my decrepitude. I doubt I have books at home that have such positive titles...except for The Mister's favorite (a gift for me) - The Splendor of Silence.

  2. Kim--Only you could write a funny post about a stack of books.

    How about going to the bookstore and buying books like, "I Became an Overnight Best-Selling Author" and "Stick Women are No Longer Considered Gorgeous... and Now I am a Runway Model Making Millions" and "List of Guaranteed Million-Dollar Lottery Numbers" (there's only one copy of that one--and you'll get the only one).

    Stack 'em up. And see what happens...

  3. I've been noticing other things in the apartment that point to impending senility...just how many spice bottles of paprika does one person need? If that were the only multiple, I'd think it was just a fluke...but there are more.

  4. I have the same problem but for me, it's a problem with organization. All the spices are thrown into a big plastic tub, the tub overflows, I root around looking for something, can't find it, buy more, and then later find several in the corner of the pantry, where they've escaped the tub.

    I'm not crazy (well, perhaps I am, but this isn't proof), I'm cluttered.


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