What More Do You Want?

...and every silly song seems as though it has significance. 

All I want to do is sleep (and nap).
I'm not sure if this means I'm getting back to normal or not.
Getting back to normal is what we're supposed to be doing; getting our affairs in order (which is to say, back to extramarital sex).
I don't particularly want to, but then, I never wanted to do this while Sarah was alive either.

Being dead carries a lot of responsibility.
There's a lot of talk about what she would have wanted.
She wouldn't have wanted the kids eating this.
She would have wanted us to expand the porch or hang the Hallowe'en decorations in this window versus that window.
It seems important to honour the wishes of those we have lost, but being dead doesn't make you right all of the time.
She's even bossier from the grave than she was before (don't worry, she would have laughed at that). 
What she likely would have wanted is for the rest of those in her family to form a singing troupe and tour around Europe.
And I shall be their manager!

Sarah tried comedy approximately five times.
She was a natural, but then, I would say that.
I used to fantasize about us forming a comedy duo.
Not a couple of idiots sharing a guitar onstage, but just the two of us talking to one another, including the audience when we felt like it.
The dynamic really would have worked.
But we realized there would be a lot of unchaperoned nights in a single hotel room.
And that might have left a fly in the goblet, if you catch my drift. 
I go back onstage for the first time tonight. 
I intend to be bleak.
It's what she would have wanted. 

Oh, and by the way,  I sincerely wish someone had successfully shot what's-his-face Harper today. That would have legitimately, honestly improved my day considerably.