Of our kitchen drain. It bubbles up with soap at odd hours like the goo in Ghostbusters II.
That I don't know how to have a real job any more since I've gone out on my own as a permalancer.
I might never floss properly.
Because I have more nightmares than sweet dreams, and I wake up not remembering them, just that they were terrifying.
Of the pull-up bar at the gym.
That I have chosen wrong, and there will be no course-correcting.
I might be out of touch with the kids today, but am not old enough to be a yuppie.
That I am devolving in the spelling department and that I say "dude" too much.
Of the far reaches of my closet: scarves, one scuffed slingback and...a diary might be in there!
That I might die in the street one day and my family will have to go through my room and through said closet and all my achievements will have been for naught because I don't fold my socks, my bras are hanging from my ettiger, and my potbelly marble-top antique dresser is missing some of its brass work on the side from where I tore a laundry bag on it.
My immune system stinks because I've never been without roommates and we're all touching the remote and coughing in the air.
Of not being able to stand on my two feet forever.
That I push people away when I think I might lose them.
I won't pay off my credit card bill. Not this month. Not this year. Not ever.
Of moving away from New York. And of staying here for missing opportunities I've painted in my mind.
I let bosses walk all over me because I want them to like me, but they never respect me.
That I'll never get a kitten.
My brain might be turning to mush because in an attempt to "detox" from all that I read and write, I only watch Snapped on Oxygen (it rules) and reality T.V. shows (Real Housewives of New Jersey should have been first!) and cartoons (Simpsons and Family Guy--will I be able to watch these when I'm forty?)
Of forgetting all that I have to be grateful for.
Of ever reaching my perceived perfection in my goals, because then I will have no more room to learn, and that is the greatest possible travesty of all.