Would you mow the lawn, but never take a few minutes to sit in the shade and smell that fresh cut grass? Would you argue over trivialities and events that will be gone and forgotten before you are? Would the acquiring of money or goods occupy your time? Would you give an honest compliment to someone without worrying that it would swell their head? Would you keep flossing? Would you enter a prolonged drink and/or drug coma? Would you say ‘yes’ when people asked for favours, even though you knew you wouldn’t live long enough for them to reciprocate? Would you keep on going to a joe job that pays the bills, but breaks your spirit? Just as an exercise, really think about what you’d do if you knew you had only six months to live. “Enjoy every sandwich.” We like to think that we’re living our lives as best as we can, but how many of us are really aware of what’s around us, at any given time? How often do we cling to out-dated thoughts and feelings, just because we’ve always had them? Do we really have to live long enough to become senile to finally have that perfect second childhood? It was exactly what I wanted and needed at that moment, and it tasted like it should, and it entered into my stomach as gracefully as Nadia Comeneci sticking a perfect ten point landing. I took two pieces of a good light rye bread, spread some butter and mustard on them, and added a package of sliced corned beef. I knew the correct answer should have been “packing up stuff and throwing stuff away,” but what I said instead was, “I’m eating a sandwich, and I can’t believe how wonderful it is.” My husband called one morning, just checking in, and he asked me what I was doing. Still, it was only this week that I actually found myself inside that feeling. Now, I’m not kicking it in a few months – as far as I know – but that expression really resonated with me. ”How much you’re supposed to enjoy every sandwich,” Zevon answered. Letterman asked Zevon if his condition had taught him anything about life and death. He spoke about what he’d no longer have to worry about (high cholesterol, getting fat, going bald, and the future of technology.) He’d decided to spend what remained of the rest of his life reading, and writing and recording songs. When Warren Zevon was diagnosed with a deadly cancer, and told he had only months to live, he appeared on David Letterman’s show in October, 2002 as the night’s only guest. Somehow, at some point, without even realizing it, I’ve slipped into the “ enjoy every sandwich” part of my life.