We are all going to die in our sleep

I'm sure of it.  I say this because we have a gas water heater.  Having never lived with a gas anything, I am finding it makes an excellent focus for my paranoia.  Every time we; enter our apartment, wake up, finish taking a shower, wash dishes, or happen to be in or near the kitchen (which is a lot when you have a studio apartment) I feel the compulsion to check the pilot light, just to make sure.  Despite Kate's assurances that even if the pilot light were to go out in the middle of the night, it wouldn't release anywhere near enough gas to kill us all quietly in our sleep, I decided to do some internet research to assuage my fears.  

After typing "gas water heater death" into my google search bar, I feel less rather than more secure.  Apparently we not only have to worry about explosions and gas leaks, we can also be killed by carbon monoxide poisoning.  Reading the safety warnings for anything brings out the hypochondriac in me.  I can convince myself I am dying after reading the warnings on a nyquil bottle.  Forget the fact that I am dehydrated and have been walking around the city for three days straight, my headaches and fatigue are caused by carbon monoxide poisoning, no question.  Kate is already passed out next to me on the bed.  I might not last much longer.

At least once we all succumb we won't have the chance to embarrass ourselves further.  Last night we listened to a This American Life episode where Ira visits David Sedaris in Paris.  DS explains how he maps out his day by connecting the places where he is least likely to embarrass himself with his minimal French skills or where he knows they will kindly laugh off his mistakes.  I am finding it very easy to empathize with this sentiment.  Today Nell and I bought a few things at the supermercado down the street.  Ignorant of proper produce etiquette, we had not weighed our potatoes before bringing them to the register.  Our cashier gave up trying to explain our error to us and sent one of his coworkers to weigh the offending spuds, telling the people behind us they had better choose another line.  It turns out the embarrassment of holding up the line at the grocery store, unlike potato-buying custom, is universal.

I can feel the lack of oxygen getting to me.  Time for a nap/eternal sleep.  

 - Chau