I have this neighbor. I like her. I think she’s cool and she does interesting things that I’d like to know how to do, but I’m shy so instead of asking her how, I just get drunk and then text her about…I don’t even know. She’s very patient.
One night we invited she and her husband over, and in short order she was telling us that we needed to write our wills. She had far too much experience with learning the ins and outs of wills for unexpected deaths at her disposal and I didn’t want to question her because, you know, Death.
She said that if it was typed it didn’t mean jack but if it was hand written and signed, it was okay.
So, needless to say, I wrote a will. If you need it, it’s in my journal. The one that looks like many of my other journals, it’s black? Anyway, whatever. I’m sure if it’s a problem, my neighbor will find it for me and sort it all out. (Thanks Sara!)
And even though it’s unofficial, here’s the long and short of it:
My kids get everything.
They can use it for college or travel or purely experimental, non-habit-forming drugs or to finance their boyfriend’s rock band, whatever. I don’t care. I won’t be around anymore so it’s not like I can nag them, amiright?
I found that, since I don’t really have any assets and long ago made sure my life insurance would go into the right hands, that left me time to focus on other things. Like the old “burial vs. cremation” topic:
I also thought for quite a while about the after-party. In the end, though, I left that up to other people, too. I did have one suggestion and one specific request though:
After I put this down in the all-important pen, I realized I should probably check in with my potential future DJ’s to make sure they were comfortable with the idea. As I expected, they were totally down.
And Mandi’s response:
Is it weird that I’m pretty sure she got to work making my death soundtrack as soon as she got my text? I mean, she answered me as though it were absolutely going to happen. That’s cool, though. I appreciate knowing that she’s got my back, and no sad asses will be moping in chairs at my party.
All in all, I hope I never have to trust any of this to anyone because of that whole ‘long satisfying life’ I plan to live, until I get very sleepy and then decide to go gently into that dark night…when the time is convenient for me. But, you never know. And it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.
I think my neighbor will be proud.
1. Footloose soundtrack, but choreographed dancing, so yeah.
2. Cremated and only in a cardboard box.
3. No chairs at memorial.
4. Kids get all the drugs.