Last night at work was a pretty good night, right up until I realized that I had my underwear on backwards. This was the first little clue that something was amiss.
As a co-worker and I were talking, the subject of dreams came up. Then she said to me "I had a dream about someone at work".
Me: Well, I hope it wasn't about me.
She's making a sad, kind of pouty face.
Me: Well, it's not like I died or anything.
She looks as if she's about to cry.
Me: I died? No, seriously. I DIED??!!
So she dished: "I was afraid to tell you, but then I thought, what if it comes true? Then I'll have this hanging over my head for the rest of my life because I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to think I was weird or anything, but I thought since we were already talking about dreams I should just tell you". She was now looking at me a little quizzically, as if I had clue. Then she smiled hesitatingly and said "Maybe it can be prevented".
Me: How did I die?
Her: In an explosion.
Me: What?! What do you mean?
Her: Some kind of a fuel tank in your house exploded and you died.
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This morning I called my oil company to make arrangements to have my furnace checked, and the oil tank. . . . . . . and I told Cute Hubby to move the propane tanks for the BBQ away from the back of the house. . . . and maybe I better get around to making out a will, no sense in taking any chances.