A long time ago, way before someone invented the word invented, a Ouija Board predicted that I would die during the first week of August in 2018. I do not think that I died in August 2018, but my reaction time slowed down. There have been many times since then that I go to the bathroom before I get to the bathroom.
“Was the Ouija Board right about the dates but off by two or three or forty-seven years?” I have wondered every July since 2018. I never buy green bananas on July 31st.
This year I thought I might be Number Three after hearing about the deaths of two friends during July. I could have celebrated being death-free at 12:01 am on August 8th, but Paul McCartney told me that a week has eight days.
It is August 9th. It is one day past the first eight days of August. I am not dead. See how smart I am to have figured that out?
Whether it is the first week of August or some other time, one day I will die. I hope that my death does not happen while I am on stage doing standup.