A Fashionable Death

I can see it now...my obit. "It was death by fashion...."

Normally I don't think a lot about what my obituary will read, but today I had a moment. Or two.

As I was racing through my little adobe house, fashion-necessity-scarf flying behind me simply from the speed of my movement, I was suddenly, and without warning, stopped cold in my tracks as my body arched backward, the artfully tied knot at my throat tightening as the silken fabric constricted around my neck.

What in the world?!

I stopped, not by choice, but by force and caught the now-taut scarf in my hand, tugging it from my airway as a few carefully chosen words spewed from my mouth (proving that I was not truly being strangled or suffocating, it only felt that way).

My equally carefully chosen, artfully hand-painted, fashionable accessory had almost been the death of me when the silken strands on the ends somehow caught in the door frame of my bedroom as I was rounding the corner at Mach-5, and stuck, even as I kept flying forward.

It would have been a fashionable death, so to speak, but I am not ready to die under any circumstances. It took me 20 years to even wrap a scarf around my body in any way, so to have this near-death experience happen, when I have been so overly cautious about being trendy, was a bit disheartening.

Anyway, I have escaped death once again. And I looked good doing it, too.

And so I'm off. And my scarf is flying. We are alive and we look good.