Bad reputation

This week finds me in New York City.  In response to Patti's comment last Sunday, it's true girl, I do like to wander!  I'm staying in my mother's apartment, finally getting a chance to go through it and see what needs to go and what I want to keep.  It's not as heart-wrenching as I had feared.  Last night was my first night here, and I avoided going to bed as long as possible.  I was afraid to sleep in her bed.  I thought it would be... I don't know.  I wasn't sure if I 'd be able to sleep.  Finally I put on her soft, pretty nightgown and climbed in.  I was out the minute my head hit the pillow, and I slept better than I have in months.  Go figure.

Going through her shit is actually kind of fun, although frustrating at times.  Damn you woman, why did you have to be so skinny?  Those are Gucci pants I can't fit into!  Why couldn't you have eaten more fried chicken?  Oh, and that Karl Lagerfeld dress is breaking my heart.  How the fuck did she manage to stay so thin with Zabar's two blocks away?

I love Zabar's.  Zabar's is my new best friend.  They will know me by name when I live here.

In any case, being here has got me thinking too much again.  If you died right now, what would people say about you?  Turns out my mother had a bad reputation... for being too nice.  Everyone said she was generous and sweet, much too kind-hearted for Manhattan.  From what I can remember of her, I believe it to be true.

So it got me to thinking, what would people say about me if I got hit by a bus or jumped off the roof of this building?

My friends in San Francisco would probably say, "She loved New Orleans.  That's all she ever talked about."

My friends in New Orleans would probably say, "She loved it here, but couldn't make her mind up about where she wanted to be.  She kept leaving, but could never stay away for very long."

My friends in Alaska would say, "She loved nature and wild animals.  She loved to hike and fish and go on adventures and talk to people and make new friends."

Everyone would say, "She loved to travel, all she wanted to do was wander the world and write postcards.  She liked to socialize.  She loved her friends and made sure they knew it.  She liked to drink and dance and carry on.  She loved food and wine and a well-made cocktail.  She liked men, a lot, and occasionally women.  Sex, drugs and rock and roll, with some jazz and funk thrown in there as well."

Of course, that's what I THINK they would say.  To be honest, they might say, "She was a cranky, slutty bitch who drank too much and spent all her money on plane tickets."

Who knows what people would say if I kicked the bucket.  I'm in no hurry to find out...