A Little Panic

If you ask me, I prefer the days when potassium iodide was just some salt, something I didn't know anything about. If you ask me, I prefer the days when I didn't receive doomsday emails and read every word, click on every link, becoming more and more alarmed. If you ask me, I prefer the days before I was too terrified to buy something I wanted on eBay, because, let's face it, what's the use when we're hours away from Apocalypse?



Ever since 1987 I've walked around with a feeling of impending doom. Something terrible was set to happen. And terrible things did. Each one worse than the last, like some sort of cascading ill fortune.

But this?

Arnold lies curled up beside me. He has seen it all, I mean almost dying at our doorstep, huge smelly maggot wound opening up the side of his head. His main concern is his next meal. I've passed up an opportunity to go out to Kavitha's with Jackie, Simon, Julie and Shan, for banana leaf, because I'm sitting here feeling too alarmed.

Part of me observes me falling to pieces and laughs.

The other part, the lizard brain part, is heaving, stomach roiling, eyes darting, scared to death, wondering when? when? when? when? when?

This is NOT how I would choose to die.