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Serendipity? Or a Harbinger of Future Senility? You Decide

Tags: book
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.

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.

This post first appeared on The Ratio Of Failures, please read the originial post: here

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Serendipity? Or a Harbinger of Future Senility? You Decide


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