NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE

A certain memory has been visiting lately. Perhaps if I write it down it will fly from my head. I can only hope.

Once, when I was about seven years old I had drawn a bath for myself, alone. I have had an affinity for music ever since I was wrenched from my mother's womb, so I got this great idea. I would take my tape player plug it into the wall and then balance the tape player on the rim of the bathtub. This I did. I can't impress on you enough how the bath ledge was just big enough to hold the clunky electronic box. One slip, one bump and my little seven year old heart would have fibrillating like a chunk of Jell-O at the epicenter of an earthquake. I took my bath and blithely sang along to some Ernie and Bert duet completely oblivious to the potential danger I was in. When I was finished, I got out and drained the water. My mother came in to floss or something and immediately noticed the tape player. She freaked out, hugged me something fierce and then told me never, ever to do that again. I remember feeling dizzy with fear.