Musing about life

I am not in the habit of writing. I was never one of those girls who kept journals or diaries about my lame life. But since my life is now a rather dead life, I am seeing things slightly differently. Life is only as lame as you make it. Mine was pretty lame. The only pleasures were tormenting Mrs. K and seeing how long it took to blow Mabel's very short fuse--well there was also the tree house we built and swing over the river. But overall I did not enjoy life. I did not take the time to actually smell the roses (I wish I know where that phrase come from). But really don't ask me to tell what roses actually smell like because I don't know and the House of the Dead doesn't have roses. They would all die if it did. I don't know why that is either. Trees grow alright and so do must shrubs but most of flowers grow crooked or not at all and roses well they don't grow at all.

Anyway, now on this side of the life cycle, I have decided that my life will not be lame or boring, not that living with dead could ever get boring. They have all sorts of stories and since they are dead they have no qualm about talking. They seemed to have finally figured out what life meant. I guess I am still trying to figure it out.