I’ve slept through quite a bit of weather – the famous hurricane of whenever-it-was that ripped up large swathes of southern England, for instance. Today I slept through the tornado which ripped the side off a house 200 yards away.
Well, I didn’t entirely sleep through it. I was aware of a very bright flash which made me think someone had taken a picture of me whilst in bed followed instantly by a huge clap of thunder. A storm, I thought, immediately overhead. There was a pause, then torrential rain and what sounded like hail, the rushing of wind and, some time later, the annoyance of several helicopters which appeared to be attempting to land on the roof.
I was woken up, about two hours later, by the phone ringing repeatedly as people who’d seen the news checked to find out if all was ok.
I generally find, when suicidal, that the best tactic is to go to bed and sleep. That way you get the benefits of death, at least temporarily, without any of the repercussions for other people. Also the titanic struggle required to resist the blandishments of extinction is exhausting. Sleep is good.
So there I was, half asleep. And my thought, when I realised that the storm was immediately overhead, was that I wished I had been struck by the lightning. Then at least it would have been an accident. This is the current plan, to make it look like an accident. Perhaps, when in India, I could be run over in the street. If the tornado had ripped the top off my house, and me with it, it would have solved so many problems.
I so want to die. I so wish I didn’t.