Why don’t you keep me in your thoughts and prayers and well wishes at this harrowing junction of my life? I’m not any more ill than usual, and I’m actually on top of my to-do list, and my house is clean. It’s just worse than all of that. My espresso machine is dying. Weep with me. I have descaled and scrubbed and did everything I know, but it won’t stop making this hideous noise. And, instead of twenty-five seconds to pull a shot, it takes like a minute. I’m afraid. Afraid for me and afraid for you if I don’t have my morning espresso.
Why don’t you dress for your body type and size? When I first lost a bunch of weight, I’d only buy size small shirts because I could. This was dumb. I now have loads of clothing I can’t wear because I gained a bit back. My skeleton never changed, after all. I’m a medium. I’ve always known I’m a medium. But the skinny me had an emaciated brain. So I need to take all of that to the thrift shop and wear the clothes that fight me right. And you look so much better when your clothes fit. Don’t make my mistakes. The 2010s were a weird time.
Why don’t you give a zakat every time you’re paid? I’ve been thinking a lot about this ever since my wild tour of Doha with Dr. Attia. (You’ll read about that soon, beloved reader.) In the simplest terms, the zakat is a charitable donation, about 2.5% of your savings. I can’t figure out who this is given to, probably a mosque since this is an Islamic tradition, but you can surely give your zakat to whatever charity your fondest of. I’ll give mine to either a big lion charity or to the animal hospital in Luxor. When it’s such a small amount, it’s not a burden, and it makes you feel nice about your contribution to humanity.
Why don’t you write your autobiography? I always intended to craft mine in 30-year volumes. I have a few years left to get a start on it. It’d be so nice to have the story of your life written down for the future. More people should do it. Wouldn’t it be a treat to know about your ancestors or the interesting people that never became famous? As an amateur historian, I feel somewhat obligated to record my place in time for the future. Volume One is going to be entitled Wake Me When the Crocus Blooms. I hope it’s good read. My life has been decently interesting so far.
Why don’t you buy tons of beauty treatments on sale from Amazon? My face is currently slathered with a number of serums, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to wake up with the fresh face of a fetus. If I don’t, I’ll be really annoyed that I spent my mad money on serums, oils, and creams instead of more Romanian Cave Cheese from ALDI. Long story. Treat yourself to luxury at a discount, dear reader, and stay young and beautiful forever. [UPDATE: I don’t look younger…yet, but my skin has never been softer or smoother!]