On Death and Happy Lent

Back home, safe and sound. I drove the speed limit past rest stops and strip malls, by cow pastures and Burger Kings, around semis and Saturns, careful not so much because I am a law abiding traveler of the interstate but because I was afraid of dying and having that vagina on a bicycle the last known image on Petunia Face. Not exactly the framed photo I envision adorning the top of my casket.

Which makes me wonder: what will become of this blog if I should die suddenly? Will you come here day after day, wondering why I haven't updated? How long until you give up? Should I give my password to Bryan so he can post a farewell in case of such an event? But what if we both die together? Should I bequeath it in my will, a one word log-in worth nothing more than the time it takes to utter it? As if it were a family jewel, or a child? I was thinking of this today as I drove. And then I had to think it backwards so as not to jinx myself. Ylneddus eid dluohs I fi golb siht fo emoceb lliw tahw? And then I ate a Cadbury Cream Egg I had bought at the gas station. And then I remembered that today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. So I thought about what I should give up. And then I remembered that I am not Catholic. So I ate another Cadbury Cream Egg. And now I am home, not dead, just dead tired. I am thinking it would be good if I just go stare at a blank wall for a few hours. And then eat another Cadbury Cream Egg.

Happy Lent. Or Pious Lent. I am not sure what the appropriate greeting would be as I have never bought an Ash Wednesday Hallmark card, raised as I was a Spiritually Agnostic Lapsed Episcopalian/Southern Baptist Who Loves Seasonal Candy Regardless of What God And/Or Pastoral Animal We Are Celebrating. So Happy Hump Day instead. I know that one.
xo,
Susannah

p.s. Other on the road thoughts inspired by the mention of the dark and dirty underworld of the bedside table drawer: I'm thinking I should start a business, working title "So You're Dead Now But Don't Want Your Parents To Find Your Vibrator, LLC, Inc." Basically you hire me, tell me all your dirty secrets and where to find them. Upon your untimely passing I will be the first notified and quickly work to clean out whatever gank you have in your proverbial bedside table drawer. Possible items include sex toys, love letters, porn, dirty Polaroids and video, boogers, etc. I am working on the logistics, but something tells me this could be huge.

p.p.s. Dear Mom and Dad: I got this idea from watching tv. There is nothing in my bedside table drawer but Chapstick, cough drops and a Gideon's Bible.