Don't change your plans.

So last night, a friend of mine told me to meet him at the bookstore so that we could go see IRON MAN. He knew I'd seen it already, but he wanted me there because he thought it'd be more entertaining to spend the evening with me than to be alone.

At 9:15, I showed up at the bookstore as discussed, and he wasn't there. By 10:15, he still was not there.

I left a couple texts, placed a couple more phone calls and then headed to Relapse Theatre, where I'd intended to go before my friend suggested that I change my plans to hang out with him.

The Relapse gang, who had seen me earlier in the week when I'd been forced to vacate my apartment and move in with my mom temporarily, asked me if my week had gotten any better.

I told the gang that, on Tuesday, I was supposed to have wine with someone, but that person forgot. And I told them that a different friend asked me to a movie but didn't show up.

Most of the people said, "Oh, sorry," then looked sideways - trying to find someone to change the subject.

At one point, they tried to suggest that maybe something had happened to my absentee friend.

"Yeah," I said brightly, "maybe he's dead or something."

"Um," a Relapse friend said.

"No, it's OK," I said. "If he's dead, it's probably from a drug overdose, so he probably died happy. You know, one of those moments of pure bliss where it's great up until the moment you realize that you're not breathing."

The Relapse friend was still optimistic.

"I bet death is like that for everyone, not just drug addicts," he said. "You know, like, you get the moment of pure bliss right before you go ..."

"You think so?" I asked. "I always thought my death would be kinda horribly painful."

"Really?"

"Yeah," I said, "I think I'd be screaming right up until I hit the pavement."

Only one person laughed.