So the world didn’t end on Saturday, May 21. I didn’t think it would, but I couldn’t help asking myself, what if?
Twice, I was in the same large auditorium covering commencement exercises for two high schools.
I thought about my escape plan. I sat in similar seats at the edge of a row and would have to run up a half-dozen stairs and down a hall to the west exit doors. But I wondered how long I would survive in a destroyed world with my high heels and crop pants and no food.
A second time, I looked out the window when I was getting coffee and thought how the intermittent cloudy weather could becoming billowing smoke, buildings could start burning and it would look like Sept. 11. I couldn’t go beyond what I already know to imagine the Rapture.
I missed out on an after-rapture party because I had to work late. Instead, I did laundry (clean clothes are a good thing to have, right, if the world ends) and read in bed. I looked at the clock at 11:55 p.m. Five minutes left, right? And then at 12:21 a.m. I’m safe. We’re safe.
At least until 2012, another time when the world could end.
I doubt it. But what do I know? I wore high heels when I should have worn my hot pink and black tennis shoes.
My challenge for next week (not shyness related) is to exercise every single day. I joined a gym and, due to a list of excuses, do not go as often as I want or should.