As I turned away from locking the gate this morning-- on my way to drive B to the metro-- I glimpsed a lump atop a stretcher, lost under a flowing white sheet. There was no one around-- it sat all alone, resting (for eternity!) by the back entrance to the funeral home behind our apartment.

Finally-- drama!

But contrary to my hungry-for-adventure online persona, I blocked my peripheral vision with a cupped hand and sped past-- unnerved and surprisingly freaked.

And then a few minutes later we realized we had left the car on the opposite block-- which forced us to revisit the alley and the scene. And this time my curiosity got the best of me. But the lump had become boxy-- the gauzy white sheet, a quilted furniture cover. A coffin on a stretcher sitting out in the sun. A huge dose of reality instead of my imagination twisted in knots.

An example of how sometimes stopping to smell the roses can be disappointing-- or limiting, at best.