Or: Was That Really a Dead Mouse in the Bathtub?
Before I even begin, let me assure you, nobody has asked me to become God, a god, the Goddess, or any lesser known deity.
No one.
No one has suggested I’d look good with a halo or beard or long white robe. No one has suggested I’d be any good at coming up
A ruler of Heaven and Earth, I'll never be.
with my own Ten Commandments or my own divine plan for the universe.
And no one has suggested that God is not already doing a bang-up job without my help. No one.
In fact, the people who know me are pretty sure I’d suck at being God.
First, I’m not so good at seeing the Big Picture. I can’t quite tell how we all fit together – predator and prey – so I’d make all the lions and wolves and people and such – I’d make them all vegans.
And, yes, I know, if they all turned into vegans, we’d be overrun with mice and deer and all the other prey.
But that’s what I’d do.
And I’d never make the lessons people need to learn difficult or challenging. Or downright painful.
People would need only to learn to chew with their mouths shut, keep their elbows off the table, and turn their head and cover their mouth when they sneezed.
With me as God, life would not be a learning experience at all. More like Disney World. Or Epcot.
We’d walk from France to Morocco to Italy in less than a day. Food would be plentiful, money abundant, and everyone happy.
Happy happy happy.
I know I complained about you, but I wish you hadn't ended up quite so dead in the tub. RIP, my little friend.
And the mice who snuck into the house to stay warm during the winter would stay alive but out of sight, and they would never…
Never….
Not ever…
End up dead in my bathtub.