I had a word of the day, but I just wasn't feeling it, so I'm going to write a little emotional piece called "The Woman with Ridiculously Loving Paranoia" instead...
You're sitting in a chair. Is it a comfy chair darling? Well, I certainly hope so! The cushioned throne on which your rest your behind? I hope it doesn't fall through the floor boards and land on the hot water tank in the cellar and break the hot water tank and make water gush out all over the foundation of this old drafty house! Or even worse, the whole ordeal would kill you and and I would have to stand in black at your graveside funeral, sniffing my little red nose. That would be a complete disaster! And I would be terribly upset, dear! I would be so distraught be the whole situation, that I would finish off my sleeping pills with my fifth glass of red wine and fall int a very deep sleep so that I could get away from the overwhelming grief. Or maybe I would take the hand gun that's in my jewelery box, you know the one you gave a few years back after that robber broke into our house through the bathroom window when I was there alone and I had to call the police and I was terribly frightened so I wouldn't let you leave the house to go to work so you bought me the little handgun just in case anything like that happened again? Well, I think I would shoot myself in the head! Or maybe I'd jump off of the bridge in town. No I couldn't possibly do that! That was the bridge that kissed on. Remember? No, no, no I couldn't do that. Maybe I would move out of this house and bring that chair with me to a small apartment and sit on in and think about you, and how nice it was when you were still alive, and how nice you looked when you sat in that chair. Darling, I really do hope your chair is comfortable. Because if you were to fall out of it and break your back, I don't know what I would do...
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