A few months ago, I found a Post-It note on my desk that said:
4.2 – Lisa dies
I have no idea where it came from or who wrote it, which has made it kind of creepy and awesome at the same time.
Being the organized sort, I dutifully set up a calendar invitation. My Post-It grim reaper didn’t include a year, so I made it an all-day occurrence, recurring annually. Notably, Waynn accepted my death within minutes, while Jennifer rejected it.
I know who is getting the biggest slice of pie from now on.
Waynn’s all-to-easy acceptance of my annual passing aside (I mean, really…you couldn’t have at least waited an hour, Waynn?), I actually kind of like having a death day. I don’t celebrate my birthday, Valentine’s Day, or really any holiday. But a death day? For me, it’s been a nice gentle reminder from the paper supply gods that life is too short to not be enjoying every day.
It has also provided fodder for a new office game: “If Lisa’s life were a [insert book genre], she would [insert method of death].”
In the past few weeks, I’ve been drowned by a jealous mermaid, eaten by an alligator, thrown off a building by an angel, only to be devoured by a hoard of super-hot zombies, and (of course) accidentally beaten to death by Grey. The good news is that in most cases, the afterlife is filled with an astounding array of incredibly attractive angels, demons, warlocks, vampires, and other lost souls, all of whom are perfectly eager to help me unravel the mystery of my death, so that I can rejoin the living world.