Whenever I'm sick, or even in just a tiny bit of pain, I take on a rather childish voice and say to Becky, "I dying." Yes, spoken with bad grammar and all.
Her most common response to this is, "You're not dying." But on occasion, she takes a cue from her mother and will say, "Tell me when you'll be dead so I can pencil it in on my calendar." It's a somewhat regular shtick, especially when you consider that I usually have some physical woe to complain about. When she asked for a date, I'll say something like, "Tuesday, the 20th."
Last night, I decided to check the calendar on my cell phone to ensure I had my upcoming PCP appointment on it. There, on 6 July, was the special specialist. And on the 19th, there was...ummm...something. I couldn't recall anything coming up on that date. So I brought the date up to see what was planned, and it would seem that between 11:00 AM and 2:00 PM, I'll be "officially" dying. There was even a note that read, "I'm dying."
Me: (Utterly baffled.) "Ummm...I'm apparently going to die on the 19th."
Me: It's right here in my calendar. I don't remember putting that in there, but I'm scheduled to die between 11:00 AM and 2:00 PM.
Becky: (Starting to crack up.) I forgot I put that in there!
Me: When did you do that?
Becky: (Laughing harder.) The last time you told me you were dying, I asked you when, and you told me "Tuesday the 19th." I found the nearest Tuesday that fell on the 19th and wrote it in for you.
Me: Oh...How thoughtful.
She kept laughing to the point where tears were rolling down her cheeks. As she reminded me, the last time I'd tossed out a random date, she'd taken my phone and started fiddling with it. When asked what she was doing, all she would say was, "You'll see." And then we promptly forgot about it.
The discovery of her forgotten antics made for a good laugh last night, and now has the Steven Wright joke stuck in my head. "I know when I'm going to die because my birth certificate has an expiration date." =P
Be well, and DFTBA.