Fit fit fits.
You will perish of fits. Repeat this to yourself:
“Things can work out even if I don’t get
my way. Things can work out even….”

Well, well, well. I guess we always knew it would come to this. I took this little quiz. . .and. . . according to the powers that be, I will “perish of fits.” I truly thought that my little not-a-blog would be so therapeutic that I would not die, or perish, of fits. I throw my fits onto this little page in order to lengthen my lifespan and keep from climbing atop a tower with a high-caliber weapon. But, in the end, it won’t have helped enough, it seems.And it’s not like I can even dismiss the whole thing — I happen to be an Edward Gorey fan. I love his macabre art. It all goes back to being fascinated by all things dark and creepy. Like the old insane asylums. I think we talked about that already. Oh, we didn’t? Humor me then — I’m on my deathbed here.

I don’t know why I’m surprised, actually. There are enough things that happen in the course of a day, enough, well, you know, enough people that I encounter on a regular basis, to send me into that last fit, the big one. I’ve come down with Adamitis already this week. It’s just a matter of time, you know.

As Maxine says, “I keep hitting ‘escape,’ but I’m still here.”

So…What horrible Edward Gorey Death will you die?

brought to you by Quizilla

With apologies to Stew, who did this a couple of days ago. Remember, it’s not plagiarism if you admit to the theft!

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