From an article about a flower show

We normally prepare for a trip by imagining the worst and then are grateful for what doesn’t happen to us, so we fully expected cold weather and fierce winds on the crossing, with sheets of salt spray lashing the deck, and the ship rolling and plunging; and we imagined ourself lying on a bunk quietly retching into a plastic bag, and then the inevitable iceberg and the rush for the boats, with us caught in a despicable act of cowardice and going down with the boat in shame and disgrace, and then our obituary (“Was fondly regarded despite insufficient flowering over the years”). But, of course, the first day out was bright and balmy, and we lay in a deck chair and dozed and slowly burst open.

- Garrison Keillor, 1992


(link)